To Tame the Wind (Agents of the Crown Book 0) (29 page)

Claire had been talking with McGinnes in the galley, urging
him to try some new spices, when Nate came rushing in, breathless.

“Mistress. Ye must come!” Exchanging a glance with the cook,
she dried her hands on a cloth. “What is it, Nate?”

“I’m not to say, mistress. Cap’n wants it to be a surprise.”

There had been so many surprises of late, she supposed one
more was not unexpected. “All right,” she said and followed the cabin boy to
the companionway.

Once on deck, she headed toward Simon’s beckoning hand where
he stood with a cluster of his men watching two ships anchored nearby. His
welcoming smile made her cheeks heat at the memory of their lovemaking that
morning.

The crew parted for her to join him at the rail.

“Look, sweetheart,” Simon enthused.

Her gaze followed his and when she took in all that was
before her, she raised her hands to her cheeks. “Papa!” He was just climbing
over the rail of his ship and down a rope ladder to a small boat.

“See the name on his ship?” Simon asked.

Shielding her eyes against the sun, she looked toward the
ship’s hull and read
Blessing
. “Oh Simon!”

“Aye, sweetheart, a clever way of letting me know I need not
fear his guns. He comes for our wedding.”

She waited excitedly as her papa and M’sieur Bequel were
rowed across the small distance, then climbed up the man-rope of the
Fairwinds
and dropped onto the deck where she and Simon stood waiting.

“Oh Papa,” she exclaimed rushing to him, “you came!” He
embraced her tightly. She looked into his dark eyes. “Thank you for giving us
your blessing.”

He stared into her eyes for a moment. She hoped he saw her
happiness there. Then looking over her head, he said. “As you might imagine,
Powell, I am not pleased about the manner in which you chose to collect my
daughter. But I concede, I owe you. I had not chosen well.” Claire stepped out
of his arms, and her papa glanced at her before saying, “I can see Claire is
determined to have you. Given that, I’d be a fool to withhold my permission.”

Simon chuckled. “You are no fool, sir.”

Claire returned to Simon’s side. He wrapped his arm possessively
around her shoulder and drew her close. His warmth reassured her that she was
where she was meant to be.

“I see you have returned the
Abundance
,” Simon
remarked.

“
Oui
, it was to be part of my daughter’s dowry.
Seeing how it was yours to begin with, I could hardly refuse.”

“It is most welcome. Did I mention that I like your new name
for
la Reine Noire
?”

“It is only temporary,” said her papa, “and I have you to
thank for the idea.”

Simon held out his hand. “You have my thanks, sir, for your
blessing and for the gift of Claire’s hand in marriage.”

Her papa shook Simon’s hand. It was enough to show her the
two men she loved had made peace. Given their prior relationship, she couldn’t
see her papa giving Simon the traditional French kiss on both cheeks.

“I trust you will take care of her, Powell. She’ll not be
forced to live on a ship?”

“I will love her all of my days,” said Simon, “and she’ll
have a fine house in London.”

Claire listened to the exchange, happy her father and the
man she loved agreed on something involving her. Simon had told her the terms
of the treaty ending the American war were not yet agreed to. Until they were,
her papa and Simon were officially enemies.

Her papa narrowed his eyes on Simon. “And you will keep your
promise?”

“Aye, sir, I will,” Simon confidently replied.

“What promise?” she wanted to know.

“I think you will find it most acceptable, sweetheart, but
I’ll tell you when we are alone.” He faced her papa. “Will you and your
quartermaster join me in my cabin for some brandy?”

“French brandy?” her papa inquired with a wry smile.

“Aye, only the best.”

“
Oui
, I accept.” Her papa beckoned M’sieur Bequel
closer. Simon welcomed him and, after the quartermaster greeted Claire and Mr.
Landor, they walked to the aft hatch, she and Simon with her papa and Mr.
Landor and M’sieur Bequel walking together behind them.

“By the way, sir,” Simon said to her papa. “The wedding’s in
London as soon as we arrive. It was my hope you would give away the bride.”

“If you allow my crew to sail the
Abundance
, I shall
gladly go to London. I’m afraid were I to take my own ship, even disguised as
she is, I would soon be discovered.”

“I will agree if you allow the
Abundance
’s first
mate, Mr. Busby to take command. The captain, Mr. Wingate, is in London just
now but Mr. Busby is also a familiar sight on the London quay on that schooner
and ’twould be best if he were on deck when she sails up the Thames.”

“
Oui
, that is acceptable. But my daughter sails with
me.”

London

Two days later, with the wind billowing her sails and Simon
at the wheel, the
Fairwinds
sailed up the Thames, followed by the
Abundance
,
captained by Amos Busby. Simon keenly felt Claire’s absence for he’d been two
long days and nights without her, his only glimpses of her lovely face the ones
he’d had through his spyglass. He bided his time, knowing soon they would be
together.

He’d not been surprised when Donet had insisted she sail
with him on the
Abundance
, and though Simon would have preferred
otherwise, he could hardly protest since propriety dictated she remain with her
father until the wedding. He knew Claire would want time with her beloved papa
before he returned to France.

Notwithstanding the pirate had given his blessing, Simon
still had a lingering fear her father might try and dissuade her from her
intended course. At dinner that first night in his crowded cabin, he had been
encouraged to see the Frenchman’s penetrating gaze had seemed to discern that
Claire now belonged to Simon. Perhaps it had been the glances he and Claire
shared throughout the meal, or the little touches they could not resist. He’d
hoped the message he’d sent Donet was clear: She’s mine, she’s happy and she’s
not going back to France.

They sailed into the Pool of London, where the
Fairwinds
and the
Abundance
tied up at the wharf. Standing on the quay with Claire
and her father, Simon explained that he and Claire would stay with Lord and
Lady Danvers where the wedding would take place. Donet could hardly object with
the baroness as chaperone. Anxious to speak to Cornelia about the plans for the
wedding, Claire urged her father to agree, which he did.

Simon suggested Donet also might lodge at the Danvers’
townhouse, but the invitation was declined. “That will not be necessary,
m’sieur. I will make my own arrangements.”

It was probably for the better that Simon did not know where
Donet was staying. Eden was certain to ask. “Until this evening, then?”

“
C’est bien
,” came the reply as the Frenchman kissed
his daughter’s cheeks and walked briskly down the quay with his quartermaster
and a few of his men. The thought occurred to Simon that Donet had been in
London previously and knew the city well. It should not have surprised him,
though he could not help wondering just how many times the pirate had crept into
the city for his surreptitious dealings while the British military remained
unaware. Probably too many for comfort.

Once Simon and Claire arrived at the Danvers’ townhouse, he
had a word with Cornelia and then left Claire and her friend to their plans while
he left for Whitehall.

“How wonderful to have you back!” Cornelia said, embracing
Claire. “But that rogue of yours might have given me more notice! A wedding
with mere days to plan. I should have known when Captain Wingate brought that
message asking Danvers to secure a special license Simon would be in a hurry. I
shall be frenetic before ’tis over.”

“”I’m sorry, Cornelia. But then I had no idea either.”

Cornelia gave Claire one of those looks that told Claire men
rarely gave notice of their intentions. “Oh, well, I do love a challenge.”
Tapping her chin, the baroness began to speak her thoughts aloud. “We shall
need the servants to go to market and shop for the wedding breakfast. We must
have a house full of flowers. And champagne. Yes, there must be champagne.”

Claire felt a twinge of guilt for all the work she and Simon
were asking of Cornelia. “It is good of you and the baron to allow us to be
married in your home.”

“Oh, but you
must
have the wedding here. I would not
hear of it taking place anywhere else. Besides, I adore parties!”

“’Twill only be a small affair, certainly.”

“Not too small,” said Cornelia, gathering her paper and
quill to take notes as they sat down to tea. “I’m so excited I can hardly think
where to begin.”

“I already have a gown,” offered Claire. “That’s one thing
we need not bother with.”

“Do you?”

“Papa had it designed when he thought I was to marry in
Paris.”

“And you would still want to wear it?”

“Oh, yes. Papa had it made especially for me and it’s truly
lovely, Cornelia. You will see when we go upstairs. It’s in the chest the
footman brought in.” Claire thought of the gown and could not resist sharing
the details with her friend. “It’s made of ivory satin and embroidered with
roses on delicate, green vines. The bodice is edged in Brussels lace with more
at the elbows.”

“It sounds beautiful. Your father must be an unusual man to
have such elegant taste.”

“He is,” she said, feeling a sudden fondness for her papa.
“I’m so glad he’s agreed to the marriage and come for the wedding. Simon wasn’t
sure he would and that’s why he—”

“Your father is here in London?”

“Oh, yes. He came on Simon’s other ship, the one Papa has
returned.”

“I see. Well, I don’t see precisely, but you can explain it
all later.” She brought her teacup to her lips and then, without taking a
drink, returned it to the saucer. “I am most anxious to meet him. Just think, a
real French pirate!”

“He isn’t a pirate any longer,” corrected Claire.

Patting her hand, Cornelia said, “Oh, I know. He is a
privateer like Simon and Captain Field. Now there’s an idea! Wouldn’t it be
grand if I could secure permission for the American privateer to attend the
wedding and meet your father?”

“Could you?” Claire asked, hope rising at the possibility.
“Papa would like to meet one of the Americans he has been working to free,
though I don’t imagine the English attending would be very pleased that one of
their prisoners was invited. Or a French privateer for that matter.”

“We will see. After all, the war is over for all practical
purposes. They’ve resumed negotiations on the terms for peace. They only hold
the Americans as insurance for the treaty. With Danvers’ influence, we might
just be able to see our American captain included as one of the guests. We
women shall banish war forever, at least for the day of your wedding!”

Scribbling some notes on her paper, Cornelia ran the feather
of her quill over her lips, thinking. “I shall have my maid dress your hair for
the wedding. You will be ever so beautiful. Oh, Claire, how wonderful to think
you will be married in our parlor!”

“Will the one marrying us be a member of the English
clergy?”

“He must be if you are to be legally wed.”

Claire brought her hand to her throat trying to still her
raging pulse. She supposed it didn’t matter really. “Papa would prefer a
priest, but as long as the one performing the ceremony is a man of God, I will
be satisfied. Frankly, I’m a bit overwhelmed at how hurried everything is, but
Simon won’t hear of any delay. He’s quite insistent.”

“I am not surprised,” said Cornelia, smiling. Leaning toward
Claire with a decided gleam in her eye, her friend whispered, “I knew he was in
love. You must tell me all that has happened to bring you back to my door.”

Claire felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She could never
tell Cornelia all that had happened.

“You do look happy,” said her friend. “Are you?”

Claire could not hide the truth of it. “Oh, yes, I am.”

“I was right about Simon and how he feels about you, wasn’t
I?”

Claire looked down at her tea she had allowed to grow cold.
“Yes,” she said, furiously blushing at the memory of their lovemaking. She
raised her head and looked into Cornelia’s warm russet eyes. “You were right.”

“However did Simon get you back? Do tell. I cannot believe
your father agreed to the match. He was the one I was concerned about from the
beginning.”

“The story is a long one. Perhaps while I unpack, I can tell
you.”

Cornelia rose. “A good suggestion. And my maid can help.
When we’ve finished in your chamber, we can be about our plans. Cook will need
to be advised of the wedding breakfast and the food she must prepare. We will
need sweetmeats from Mr. Negri’s Pineapple shop, of course. And then we’ll have
to sit down and make a guest list. The invitations must be carried by messenger
today.”

They walked toward the wide staircase as Cornelia chatted
on.

“Did Simon happen to mention a few extra guests for dinner?”
Claire asked, embarrassed to be foisting all this off on her friend, but
remembering Simon had requested her papa join them.

“He did. Not to worry, Claire. It is fine with Danvers and
me.”

A black cloud followed Simon to Whitehall that afternoon. He
dreaded having to advise Eden that Jean Donet was in London, but since Eden
would be a guest at the wedding, he’d know soon enough. And Simon wanted Eden’s
word that Claire’s father would be safe while he was here. Would Eden give him
such assurance? And, if he did, could Simon trust him? Eden had already proven
he was capable of deception to get at Donet.

When he arrived, Simon realized he needn’t have worried.
Eden was in very good spirits. “Come in, come in, Powell!” Eden cried. “Danvers
is due here any minute. I’ve invited him ’round for a toast to Lord Shelburne.”

“What’s the prime minister done that has you raising a glass
in his honor?”

Just then Danvers strode in. “Welcome! I see you made it to
Paris and back.”

“May I pour you both a brandy?” offered Eden, with an
uncharacteristic smile.

Simon nodded and accepted the drink, as did the baron.

“I was just about to tell Powell here about Shelburne’s latest
coup in the negotiations.”

“The old boy’s done well,” said Danvers, taking a sip of his
drink.

At Simon’s raised brow, Eden explained, “Seems the PM
managed to enlist the French admiral de Grasse—who, you may recall, spent the
summer in London as a prisoner on parole—to carry England’s peace terms to
Vergennes. In response, the French minister sent a close associate of his to
London.”

Reminded of the note he carried in his waistcoat, Simon
handed Eden the missive from the Scribe. “Here,” he said, “from my trip to
Paris a week ago.”

Eden set his glass on his desk and opened the letter, laying
it down and applying the chemicals as he had done countless times before.
Reaching for his spectacles, he perused the paper. “Very interesting, this,” he
remarked. Taking off his spectacles, he raised his head. “Now we know precisely
why Vergennes sent the representative he did to meet with Shelburne. It seems
Grasse was not trusted.”

“Who is the representative?” asked Simon.

“
Gérard de Rayneval, the French Under Secretary
of State. A trusted ally of Vergennes. He’s been
meeting secretly with
Shelburne. Word has it that when
Rayneval
first met with
Shelburne, the PM disavowed the message Grasse delivered to Vergennes. Things
were a bit sticky after that, but Shelburne prevailed upon
Rayneval
to stay when he would have gone, and the two struck up a friendship. Now
Rayneval will return to Paris convinced of Shelburne’s sincerity and
with a new set of terms we approve
.”

“A grand result,” said Danvers. “We need Vergennes to help
bring Spain to the table.”

Simon sipped his brandy. “And the Americans?”

“More good news,” said Danvers. “We have reached a separate
agreement with them, though Franklin will likely have to apologize to the
French for his breach of etiquette in doing so.”

“A very good day,” said Eden.

Realizing he would never have a more perfect moment, Simon
said, “Since you are both in such good humor, I’d ask a favor.” With their
attention focused on him, Simon launched into his tale of personal success.
“I’ve regained the
Abundance
and her crew—and much more. I’ve gained a
French beauty who will soon become my bride.”