Lady Pirate (13 page)

Grabbing her refilled mug in one hand, she snatched the now empty whiskey bottle from the barkeep with her other, and started back to the table. She paused along the way to smash the bottle over the head of the nearest of the six men. He fell like a stone, crumpling to the wooden floor behind her as she continued on to the table.

Sipping her drink, she watched the remainder of the fight with interest. Daniel was fast on his feet. He was also, she saw with delight, using every dirty trick in the book. There were no fancy fisticuffs here. He was pulling hair, gouging eyes, kneeing, punching, and kicking groins. She couldn't have been prouder had he been one of her own men.

A tap on her shoulder made her glance around to find herself staring at Richard and Scratchy. “What the devil are the two of
you
doing here?” she snapped irritably, then glared at her second mate. “Richard, I left you in charge of the ship. What—”

“Skully came back to relieve me. He said Henry had sent him to give me some time off, too.”

“Oh.” Sighing, Valoree glanced back at the fight, trying to shrug off the guilt that was suddenly plaguing her for not thinking herself of giving the man time off. “Well, behave yourselves.”

The two men muttered acquiescence to that, then were silent for a moment, watching the fight with her.

“He's pretty good,” Richard commented after a mo
ment as Daniel tossed one of the men over his shoulder and onto a nearby table. “Is he ‘him'?”

“Him who?” Valoree asked distractedly.

“The one what ye're gonna marry,” Richard clarified, bringing her head snapping around.

She glared at him briefly, then snapped, “Nay.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” she repeated in amazement. Because he was definitely not the sort to allow her to be in charge; she could tell just by looking at him. But instead she said, “Well, for one thing, he hasn't asked.”

“Hmmm.” Richard pursed his lips and eyed Thurborne consideringly. “Good fighter.”

“Not bad,” Scratchy agreed, plucking out a silver of wood that was half sticking out of the rough wooden table and using it to pick his teeth as he considered the continuing fight. “Knows how to handle hisself.”

“Hmmm.” They were all silent for a moment; then Richard muttered, “Don't suppose we should help 'im out a bit? Just in case it turns out he's thinking of asking?”

“He doesn't need help,” Valoree snapped. “He's doing fine. Besides, you know I don't like you men fighting when you're on shore.” She winced as one of the men landed a rather brutal blow that seemed to stun Thurborne for a moment, allowing several more blows before he could stop them. The Scot chose that moment to recover from his own injury. Climbing back to his feet, he released a furious roar and charged Daniel. The two men crashed onto a far table, grappling together. Now that the Scot was back in the battle, several more men suddenly found their courage and decided to join the fight as well. Once the odds reached nine to one, Richard couldn't keep silent any longer.

“He may not
need
help. All the same—”

“Oh, go ahead.” Valoree sighed, hiding her relief as Scratchy and Richard rushed forward, launching them
selves into the fray. Thurborne had done all right for himself, but he was growing tired and could use the help.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Valoree glanced around with a start at that sharp tone, relaxing somewhat when she saw Meg and Henry standing behind her. “Oh, it's you. Done, are you?”

“We finished several moments ago,” Meg told her grimly. “And have been searching for you ever since.”

“Well, all you had to do was ask One-Eye. He must have seen me come in here.”

“One-Eye did
not
see you come in here,” Meg informed her grimly. “He claims you ordered him and that poor gentleman with no nose to remove their weapons and tie up their hair, then disappeared. He said that by the time they had finished these tasks and glanced around, you were gone.”

“Oh. Well.” Valoree gave an unconcerned shrug at the news. “You found me in the end, and that's all that matters, I suppose.”

“All that matters?” Meg repeated with dismay. “What matters is that you are presently sitting in a…a…What are you
doing
in here?”

Valoree blinked in surprise at the razor-sharp edge to the woman's voice. She shifted uncomfortably. “I'm just watching a fight,” she answered quietly, reaching for her mug to take a small drink. Her hand was about to close around the cup when Meg slapped it. Snatching the cup, the woman raised it to her nose and sniffed the contents.

“Whiskey?” She exclaimed in horror.

“Aye. Do ye want some?” Valoree glanced toward the bar to wave the barkeep over, only to cry out in shock as pain shot through her head. Meg had grabbed her ear and twisted it. Even now, she was using it to force Valoree to her feet. Following the pull to avoid further pain, Valoree found herself dragged back out
onto the street before she was released. Eyes spitting fire, she whirled on the old ex-prostitute, then reached automatically for her cutlass, only to find it missing. With little else to use against her enemy at the moment but words, Valoree sucked in her breath, ready to bawl her out, only to find her mouth snapping shut in surprise as Henry grabbed her arm and whirled her around in the direction of the carriage.

“If you were my daughter instead of my captain, I'd take you over my knee and whup ye,” he snapped.

“Me?” Valoree cried in amazement. “But she—”

“She did exactly as an aunt would be expected to do to a brainless whelp who doesn't have the sense to tend to her own reputation.”

“I—”

“You were in a
tavern
. A run-down hive full of thieves and doxies. There wasn't a single respectable lady there, including yourself, it would seem.”

“Just because I am a woman, it doesn't mean—”

“Woman?” he snapped, turning on her. “This has nothing to do with being a woman. This has to do with being a noble. You are a member of nobility, girl. Or have you gone so far that you've forgotten that? 'Cause your brother never did. He was a gentleman right up to the day he died.”

Valoree stiffened, her face paling to a deathly white as he continued.

“Jeremy never would have set foot in a place like that. Not unlessen it was for business. And then he would have left the minute business was done, and found a more respectable place to relax. But
you! You've
got something to prove, don't ye? And what is it exactly, I wonder? That you can crawl in the mud with the rest of the scum?”

Valoree winced at his words, then lifted her chin. “Richard and Scratchy were in there. They are not scum.”

“Nay, they're not. But they ain't nobility either and never can be. You are. And that life is just waiting for ye. Why are ye so afraid of it?”

Panic suffused her briefly; then she whirled on her heel and strode toward the carriage. “I ain't afraid of nothing,” she said with a snarl.

“I know ye're not afraid of death or pain,” Henry called as she stomped back to the vehicle. “But it sure seems to me yer afraid of living!”

Her face was hot. Not just hot, but burning. It also itched something fierce. The discomfort had started shortly after Meg had finished putting that glop they had bought today on her face. Valoree had been doing her best to ignore the fiery itch for what seemed like hours, but really she was beginning to think it would drive her mad—if all the fawning women around her did not manage to first.

The Thurborne ball was certainly a different beast than the Beecham party had been. Their hostess, Lady Thurborne herself, had greeted them upon their arrival, been most gracious, then taken it upon herself to introduce them around. There were no snickers behind fans or gloved hands, nor malicious messages being sent from cold eyes. Everybody had been most pleasant.

Valoree would have liked to have believed that it was because Meg was doing all the talking and that the older woman, much to her amazement, carried herself, looked, and sounded exactly as a lady should.
Truly, her performance was impressive. She carried each conversation with apparent ease and grace, leaving Valoree and Henry to smile and nod politely. But that explanation just didn't wash. These people were up to something, Valoree decided grimly. There was no other explanation for the way the women had suddenly crowded around her, cooing and pleading that she attend this ball or that dinner. They were fawning over her as if she were royalty, and it was making Valoree nervous.

Her gaze slid to Henry, and she saw the same suspicion she felt reflected in his eyes. He, too, had noticed the difference. No doubt he had also noticed that, while they were presently the center of an ever growing circle of people vying for her attention, there was not a single man among them…. Well, except for Thurborne himself, but Valoree didn't really count him. She had already ticked him off her list of possible husbands, so his presence was easily discounted.

Nodding politely in response to yet another young girl's plea that she attend some function or other, Valoree turned her face away from the growing crowd. Annoyed, she dabbed at the small bead of sweat that was trickling down the side of her face. Despite the crowds and the heat in the room of so many bodies together, Valoree wasn't really hot enough to be sweating. At least not from the neck down, but that stupid wig that Meg had insisted she wear was irritating her scalp something fierce. Since she'd arrived, sweat had begun gathering at her hairline and trailing down her face. Valoree kept discreetly dabbing at it, trying to minimize the damage to her makeup, but really, all she could think was that this was all terribly uncomfortable and a blasted waste of time.

Why, she wondered, was she allowing herself to suffer through this when every single man but Thurborne was keeping himself at a safe distance? Watching the
frufarau curiously, but not approaching? Valoree could almost have believed she was wearing her shirt and breeches, and that the women all thought her a man, by the way they were gathering around her. Except that she had never been this uncomfortable in her regular clothes.

“Would you care to dance?”

Valoree gave a start and glanced over to see Daniel Thurborne. The man had a small bruise on his left cheek, but otherwise looked none the worse for wear. “Nay. I do not dance,” she answered irritably, then gasped in surprise as he suddenly took her arm and turned her away toward the dancing couples.

“Come now, you shall have to come up with a better excuse than that,” he chided gently as he led her unwillingly forward. “Everyone knows how to dance.”

“Aye, well, I do not,” Valoree insisted, giving a useless tug on her arm.

“Then I shall be pleased to teach you,” he murmured sweetly, pausing to draw her around to face him and settling the hand he held onto his shoulder, even as he snatched up her other in his own and set out to dance.

Her hands moved with him; her arms did too, but Valoree's feet stayed planted firmly where they had settled, her legs bracing automatically against his pull as if she were astride the
Valor
's deck during rough seas. Startled, Daniel halted abruptly and peered down at her feet, then up at her face.

“You really do not know how, do you?” he asked quietly. Encouraged by something in his eyes, Valoree sighed and shook her head. His gaze drifted briefly; then he straightened his shoulders and nodded. “Then I shall teach you. Now, you just—”

“I really do not think that would be a good idea,” Valoree interrupted, turning away to head right back toward where Henry and Meg still stood surrounded by women. She came to a dismayed pause, however,
upon seeing that every single person in the group they had just left seemed to be watching her. There was nothing like a little pressure to make things easier.

“Well,
I
think it would be a very good idea,” Thurborne argued, taking advantage of her pause to draw her back around to face him. “After all, it will be very difficult to find yourself a husband if you do not have the proper skills,” he argued. As he did, he replaced her hand at his shoulder and took the other up in his own again.

“What makes you think I am looking for a husband?” Valoree asked sharply.

“Is that not every woman's aim?” he asked with amusement. Then, seeing that she was not amused, and neither was she about to let the question go, he sighed and admitted, “All right, Whister told me the first time you and I met at his office.”

“Whister,” she muttered disgustedly. “If he is not careful, he will find himself without his tongue.”

Daniel bit his lip in amusement at her disgruntled words, then nodded, indicating that she should peer down. “Watch my feet; you are going to follow me.”

“Follow you where?” Valoree asked suspiciously.

“In the dance. You will follow my steps. It is easy. The same steps are repeated over and over. Watch.” He stepped back, waiting patiently for her to follow, then stepped to the side. She followed and he stepped to the side again. “You should not be too upset with Whister,” he said after he had led her slowly through the routine twice. “He only told me because I am in much the same situation.”

Her eyes met his. “What situation?”

“I must marry to gain my inheritance as well,” he admitted with distaste. Valoree shook her head in patent disbelief.

“You already possess your title and estate. You inherited Thurborne estate and a dukedom from your
father some years ago,” she announced. His eyebrows rose, and Valoree could have kicked herself. It was Meg who had passed on that little tidbit of news, and Valoree should never have let on that she knew it.

“Aye,” he admitted now. “Howbeit, I have not yet inherited the wealth necessary to keep it running.”

Valoree blinked. “You inherited the land and title, but no wealth? How is that possible?” How similar was this man's plight to her own, she found herself thinking.

Daniel hesitated, then sighed. “Ah, well, it is not something any one of those women or their mamas who have been hanging about all night could not tell you. My father inherited land and title on his father's death, but had to marry for wealth.”

“Your mother?”

“Aye. Her family had a great deal of wealth but no estate or title. It was a perfect match. Mother had a very generous dowry when they married that helped to keep things afloat, but by the time my father died, it had been exhausted. What I was left with was a nice title, a lot of land, and a mountain of debt.”

“Hmmm. And this wealth that you have not yet inherited?”

“My grandmother, my mother's mother, died this last spring.”

“I am sorry,” she murmured, her gaze sliding to the dancers moving around them.

“So am I,” Daniel murmured. “She was a grand lady. A wonderful sense of humor.” He grimaced slightly as he said that last bit, then smiled wryly and said, “She helped out with some of the worst of the debts while she was alive.”

Something in his tone made her glance back, and she could see his irritation at making that admission. Valoree knew instinctively that he had never asked for the old woman's help, and that accepting it had prob
ably been the hardest thing in the world for him. She could understand that. She hated to ask for help, too, and would nearly kill herself trying to do things on her own rather than give in, speak up, and admit she could use assistance. “She sounds…nice,” Valoree finished lamely, wishing wistfully that she'd had someone similar in her own life after Jeremy had died.

“Nice?” Daniel gave a short laugh. “She was an old harridan. Forever lecturing me that I was not getting any younger, and that I should really marry and start the next line. I tried to explain that, what with trying to repair the damage done at Thurborne, I really did not have time to look for a wife. She always said, ‘You will not have time until you make time.'” He grimaced. “I found out that day in Whister's office that she had arranged it so that I would make time.”

“Marry and produce an heir, or no inheritance,” Valoree said with a smile. She doubted he had taken such a stipulation any better than she herself had. No wonder he had been shouting and stomping about in the office.

“Aye.” He smiled wryly. “And when I asked Whister where she had got such a ridiculous idea, he said that she may have heard it from him. That he had another client, a female, whose father had left a similar codicil in his will. And, in fact, that this female client was no doubt, at that very moment, waiting to see him. That she had an appointment with him, whereas I had just stormed to his doorstep the moment I arrived in town.”

Valoree grimaced at the reminder of her own objective: to find a husband. Not to inherit wealth, as Daniel had to do—she had a great deal of that. Nay, she had to find a husband so that she might be able to claim land—land that was rightfully hers by birth. They were two opposites of the same coin. “So you are here in search of a wife.”

“Much to my everlasting horror, it appears I shall have to take one, aye,” he agreed. “And my mother, of course, God bless her soul, has put out the news that I am seeking one.”

“Well, that explains the women.” Valoree chuckled. His expression changed to slight confusion.

“What women?”

“What women?” Valoree rolled her eyes. “The women all fawning upon me with pretended interest in being my friend. No doubt it is just camouflage. Since you've been near me, so are they. It's an excuse for them to flock around you in hopes of being the ‘chosen one.'”

Daniel gave her a strange look, and suddenly Valoree became very self-conscious. “So why are you wasting your time dancing with me?”

Daniel's expression changed to a smile. “So you have noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“That we are dancing.
You are
dancing. And quite well, I might add.”

His words made her realize that she was indeed doing just that, and had been for the length of their discussion. He'd distracted her with talk. She immediately stumbled, her feet suddenly forgetting where they were supposed to be going. Daniel drew her nearer to counterbalance her sudden awkwardness. “How is my dancing with you a waste of time?”

“Well, should you not be threshing out the chaff from the wheat among the eligible young women who are interested in marrying you?” she asked, forgetting her feet to glance up at him again.

“Ah.” He nodded in understanding. “I suppose I should. And which are you? Chaff or wheat?”

“Me?” She was surprised by the question, but not so much that she could not answer. “I am sugarcane, hard to cut.”

“But sweet,” he teased. Her expression turned grim.

“Nay. Not sweet. Never make the mistake of thinking that,” she said solemnly. Then, while he was pondering that, she added thoughtfully, “So all your mother had to do was announce that you were looking for a bride, and the eligible women flocked to you like pirates to a keg of rum?”

Daniel gave her another odd look, then nodded. “Pretty much, aye.”

“How interesting,” she murmured, then glanced up at him sharply. “But you still haven't answered my question. Why waste time with me, when you should be sorting the offerings?”

 

Daniel was silent for a moment, for in reality he had no idea why he was doing what he was doing with her. He didn't know why he had told his mother he would not attend her ball, or any other function for that matter, unless Valoree and her uncle were invited, or why he had asked her to dance. Oh, certainly, he was curious as to what had happened to Jeremy on the king's behalf, and to get to the bottom of the rumors about Back-from-the-Dead Red, but as curious as he was, he had not even touched these topics tonight. He had been too intent on making her comfortable, teaching her to dance, seeing her smile. He liked it when she smiled. He liked holding her in his arms.

She suddenly stopped dancing and stared at him suspiciously, forcing him out of his thoughts. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“You were not thinking that you and I should—that we would…” Pausing, she shook her head and gave a half laugh. “Nay, of course not. You would hardly be so silly.”

Insulted, Daniel frowned at her as she turned to walk off the dance floor, dabbing at her cheek with her sleeve as she did. Catching her other hand, he pulled
her irritably back into his arms. “I was not thinking what? That we should marry?” He moved her into the dance again.

“Forget I even said that.” She laughed with a shake of her head, as if the idea were quite ridiculous, he noted with mounting annoyance. “I am a touch suspicious on occasion. Of course you were not thinking that we could marry.”

“And—just to satisfy my curiosity, mind you—why is it that we could not marry?”

Lady Ainsley's eyebrows rose slightly, as if she was surprised that he need even ask. “Why…because…Well…” And then she burst out laughing.

Daniel felt his indignation grow. Not that he had been thinking that they might marry—had he?—but, well, now that he thought about it, it was not a
bad
idea. He had to marry to gain the wealth his grandmother had left behind. She had to marry to gain her land and title. They were both in the same boat, so to speak. It could be a business arrangement. People did that all the time. She, however, didn't seem to see the sense in it. She who needed a husband or, as far as he knew, would be left with nothing, laughed at the idea of marrying him—even though most of the ton were throwing their daughters and granddaughters at him in hopes of just such a match. “Because
what?
”