Lady Pirate (7 page)

“Lady Ainsley?” he asked hopefully as he approached.

Nodding, Valoree automatically offered him her hand to shake.

“Lord Beecham, at your service,” he assured her, giving a smile before bending to gallantly kiss her hand.

Eyes widening in dismay as he slobbered over her fingers, Valoree glared briefly at Henry as if to say this was all his fault. Quickly, she drew her hand back to gesture toward Meg as the woman moved forward, eyeing the man with intent interest. “My aunt.”

“My lady.” The man could do no less than bend to kiss her hand as well now, and Meg appeared as stunned by the act as Valoree had been. Afterward, he straightened and smiled from one woman to the other. “The house is all in order. I had it cleaned as your
uncle requested in his note. It has not been used for several months, so it took a bit of doing. I shall send him the bill, of course.”

“Of course,” Valoree agreed dryly with another pointed glance at Henry. He had written the letter, signing it as her uncle. Women did not perform such transactions. Either their man of affairs did, or a male relative. Henry had thought an uncle, husband to Aunt Meg, of course, might be a good touch—so that it was not thought Valoree was without protection. As for the bill, the town house was the men's idea, so let them pay for it.

“The house is pretty much yours for as long as you need it,” Beecham continued, turning to lead them up to the front door. “Just have your uncle write me a note should he wish to stay longer than the six months he has already rented it for.”

Nodding mutely, Valoree stepped past him into the house as he opened the door for her. Inside, she stood glancing about the entry as Meg—Aunt Meg, she reminded herself—joined her.

“As you can see, it's just what your uncle requested. Large, top quality, and clean as a whistle.” He ran his gloved hand down the banister of the stairs that led to the second floor to prove his point, and Valoree nodded before turning to move into the first room on the left.

“Ah, now, this is the salon, as you can see.” Her host hurried to keep up with her, rushing into the room at her heels and nearly running over Aunt Meg in the process.

Valoree was just wondering if she should comment on his rudeness when the woman spoke up for herself. “We can see what the room is, young man,” she reproved gently, surprising Valoree. Considering the talent for tartness Meg had displayed over the past couple of days, Valoree had expected a harsher chiding—a
nice cutting comment, or an outright verbal slap. Instead, the older woman was smiling at the fellow almost fondly. She's trying to endear us to him because he's a noble, Valoree thought bitterly. She considered the man to see if it was working.

Lord Beecham, realizing what he had done, was now flushing a bright shade almost as pink as the god-awful livery Henry had chosen for Skully and One-Eye. He stuttered out an apology. It was only then that Valoree took notice of his appearance. He wasn't bad-looking, or very old really, perhaps twenty-five or-six. But he was the studious sort, she would guess. After spending the better part of her life in the company of strong, fit pirates, Valoree thought he appeared weak and too skinny. His discomfort now didn't help either. Once his aplomb was gone, it seemed quite impossible for him to regain it. It was almost painful for her to watch as he began to stammer out an offer to give them a further tour of the house. It was Meg who let him off the hook.

“That will not be necessary, my lord. I think we can find our way around now.”

“A-aye, of course.” He glanced briefly at Meg, but turned to Valoree to speak again. “I…Your uncle never asked me to see to servants, so I—”

“That will not be necessary,” Aunt Meg answered for her again. “We have people coming later today.”

“G-good. I'll just—Oh! I nearly forgot. My mother, Lady Beecham, thought that if you were not too tired from your journey here, you might like to attend a small soiree she is having tonight.” His voice trailed away when Valoree stared at him rather blankly; then he began backing out of the room. “Well, nay, of course not. You are probably rather tired. I—”

His words came to an abrupt halt, as did his retreat, when he managed to back himself right into Skully.
The pirate stood in the doorway of the salon, eyeing the surroundings with some disdain.

Jerking around to see what he had backed into, Mr. Beecham paled, his jaw dropping slightly. Valoree supposed he'd never seen the likes of Skully before. Apart from the man's being dressed in pink, Valoree imagined that to anyone who didn't know him, he would look like death itself. His peg leg didn't help.

Chuckling quietly, she waved the pirate out of the room, then took Lord Beecham's arm and led him to the front door. “It is kind of ye—you,” she corrected herself quickly. “It is kind of you, Lord Beecham. And you must thank your mother for us.”

“And tell her Valoree'll be there,” Henry inserted from behind her.

Beecham's eyes widened in amazement at such bold behavior from a servant, and Valoree wheeled, glaring furiously at the older man. But Henry merely glared right back, and a glance at the other men showed the same determined looks on their faces. Grinding her teeth together, she took a deep breath, then turned back to Beecham, forcing a smile. “Of course you must tell her that we would be delighted to attend her soiree.”

“You will?” the man asked, craning his neck to peer over her shoulder at Skully, who was grunting in approval of her concession.

“Aye, of course.” Opening the door, she smiled at him cheerfully, then urged him through it. “Thank you again for all your trouble, my lord, in attending to all of this for us.”

“Oh, well, my lady, it is my pleasure,” he began modestly.

“Aye. Well, you do it well. Good day to you,” she said cheerfully. With that, she closed the door on his smiling face and turned to glare narrowly at her men.

“See that! Got us an invite already!” Henry crowed, ignoring her obvious displeasure.

Snorting in disgust, Valoree moved away from the door and led the way back into the salon, where Meg was staring out the window into the street. “You got lucky,” she snapped irritably, dropping into a chair and casually hooking one leg over the arm of it. “Lady Beecham is probably the only person in this whole town who would make an impulsive gesture like that, and you happened to rent the house from her son.”

“Nay.” Skully shook his head.

“Nay what?” Valoree asked with a sigh.

“I'd bet all my shares of the booty from that last Spanish galleon we took that his mother ain't never e'en heard o' ye,” the tall man said, bringing a frown to her face.

“She—”

“Not she. He.” When Valoree merely stared at him blankly, he shook his head and explained. “The boy. Are ye blind, Val? He was sniffing about ye like ye were a bitch in heat.”

Meg snapped with outrage from the window. “You will leave that kind of talk out in the street, if you please. Lady Valoree already has a tendency to slip up without your bandying such foulness about.”

Skully flushed bright red at the set-down, but Valoree went from pink, to red, to white. She didn't know whether to defend Skully, snipe at the woman, or agree with her. True, the “bitch in heat” remark had been a touch vulgar, even for Skully. She supposed that was why he wasn't snapping back at her himself. That or he was just as shocked by the starch in her words as Valoree was. The words seemed exactly what a “lady” would say, and—
good God
—the woman had actually sounded the part.

“Were you ever onstage, Meg?” she asked at last.

Ignoring the question, the woman turned to regard her. “Skully is right, though, for all that his sentiment could use rephrasing. Lady Beecham surely did not
extend the offer. She does not have the heart to think of it.”

“How would you know?”

Shrugging, Meg turned back to the window. “Everyone in London has heard of Lady Beecham and her mean-spirited, snobbish ways.”

Valoree stared at her for a moment longer, then glanced toward the doorway of the salon as the front door of the town house opened and closed. Bull and One-Eye wandered into the room a moment later.

“Mighty fine digs,” One-Eye commented, glancing about the room. “We stayin'?”

“Aye,” Henry announced, drawing himself up and facing Valoree as if expecting an argument. “We're stayin'.”

When Valoree merely shrugged, he continued. “We'll be needing some more things from the ship, though. Some more men to act as servants. And Petey.”

“Petey?” One-Eye raised his eyebrow. “Who's gonna cook for the men if we bring Petey out here?”

“They can fend for themselves for a bit.”

“We shall need the gowns,” Meg interjected. “In fact, if you expect her to attract a husband, she will need several more gowns.”

“More gowns?” One-Eye gaped at the woman. “Why? She's already got three of them.”

“One evening gown and two day gowns will not do,” Meg informed them primly. “She shall need at least a dozen of each.”

“A dozen!” Valoree looked no more pleased by that announcement than the men. “Why the hell would I need a dozen dresses? There's only the one of me.”

“A dozen to start with,” Meg repeated firmly.

“Now just a minute—” Henry began, but Meg cut him off.

“She is seeking marriage. She must make as good
an impression as she can. She cannot be seen twice in the same gown, else she will be thought to be too poor to be able to afford the proper accoutrements and therefore less desirable as a mate. Believe me, Valoree needs all the help she can get. She has none of the social graces considered necessary in a wife in this day and age. She has grown up and spent her life around a bunch of rum-guzzling, tobacco-spitting, foulmouthed pirates and it shows. Just look at her.”

Silence followed as the men glanced guiltily at Valoree. She sat pretty much sideways in the chair, legs splayed, one thrown over the chair's cushioned arm, and the other upon the floor. Her skirt was hitched up to reveal the boots and breeches she wore beneath. The men groaned as one at the sight, knowing that every word Meg said was true.

“Well, maybe if
someone
had told us that she was a girl.” One-Eye glared at Henry as he spoke. “Maybe then we would have done some things different.”

“What?” Valoree asked dryly. “Like mutiny?”

“Nay,” he snapped, affronted. “Like maybe throwin' some of them there grace lessons in along with the sword handling and fisticuffs.”

“Oh, aye,” she said with a sneer, but was suddenly uncomfortable under their censuring eyes as they took in the way she was sitting. For the first time in her life she felt quite inadequate. She was the captain. She led some of the most ruthless, notorious pirates in the land, and they followed her orders. Yet she suddenly felt like an ignorant, uneducated child. And she didn't like it.

Slamming both her booted feet flat on the floor, Valoree stood and glared around the room. “Well, I'll be leaving all this decision making up to you to ‘vote' on. Me, I'm going to go take a nap.”

 

She didn't sleep; she sat in the window seat in the bedchamber she had chosen and stared out at the passing people. Valoree had never seen so many people in one spot in her life. London was just bustling with activity. It was also overcrowded, and noisy, and it stank. She missed the open sea: the breeze in her hair and salty spray on her face. She missed the sound of the men singing their shanties into the wind as they worked. She missed her cabin with its constant rolling sensation, and the safety she felt there. And more than any of those things, she missed the feeling of being in charge, of deciding what to do, and where to go, and what should happen next in her life. It seemed that her life had somehow gotten out of control, and she didn't much like that.

Trying not to think of such things, she watched through the window as the men left together in the carriage. Some time later, she saw Henry return alone on foot, a young boy following with several packages. Shortly after that, the carriage returned with Skully and One-Eye on the driver's seat, and Bull riding atop, seated on towering stacks of goods. When the coach had rolled to a stop in front of the town house, its door popped open and several more members of her crew piled out. She watched mutely as Bull began to hand down sacks of flour, salt, sugar, and other miscellaneous goods from his perch, accepting unhappily that her men expected a lengthy endeavor and obviously intended to stick it out.

Once the last of the culinary goods were removed, the men turned to unpacking the last two items, a pair of chests—a small coffer, no doubt stuffed full of the coins they planned to spend on this foolish enterprise, and a larger chest. She recognized the latter as the container she had stuffed her gowns into when they had been delivered. Moments later she heard the men banging their way down the hall toward her room.

Sighing, she stood and moved to the door, pulling it open and stepping aside for Henry to enter. He was followed by One-Eye and Skully and the clothes chest. Setting the chest on the floor, they straightened, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yer gowns is here,” Henry announced with determined cheer. “Ye'd best get ready.”

“For what?” she asked, bringing frowns to each man's face.

“For the sortie tonight.”

“Soiree,” Valoree corrected, then shook her head. “Haven't you noticed any of the women passing by the house?”

There was a hesitation as the men exchanged glances; then Henry shook his head. “What of them?”

“They are all wearing heavy white gook on their faces, then some sort of red stuff on their cheeks and lips, and thick black stuff on their eyes.”

“She is right.” They all turned to glance at Meg, who stood in the door to the room surveying them all. “The fashion has become to wear thick makeup on your face, lips, and to even wear kohl on your eyes.” Her gaze went to Valoree. “I take it you have none of that?”