Care and Feeding of Pirates (5 page)

Templeton was thoroughly wrong. Ardmore was a
law unto himself and damned all those who got in his way.

"I do admit," Templeton went on, "that
perhaps Miss Ardmore's brother's reputation is the reason she
settled for me. Perhaps better gentlemen than I refuse to believe
he is wronged. I am not much of a catch, but I was pleased to be
caught in Miss Ardmore's net." He raised his ale in salute.

"Miss Ardmore is a fine young woman,"
Christopher could not stop himself saying.

"Indeed she is. Do you know her?"

"I am a . . . friend . . . of the
family."

"
Reee
-ly?" Templeton was all that was
happy interest. "I had no idea. Miss Ardmore has never mentioned a
Mr. Raine, but then, I have not known her or her family long."

"I've been away," Christopher said.

"Quite a surprise when she accepted me, I can
assure you. I never dreamed a lady like her would favor me so.
Mother was tickled something fierce. She has become very fond of
Miss Ardmore, has Mother. My mother is a stickler for propriety,
but Miss Ardmore is all that is right and proper, of course."

"Of course."

Proper Honoria had been kissing Christopher,
her secret husband, in her bedchamber not an hour or more ago, and
would have done more had Diana not come in on them. Poor Templeton.
Christopher supposed he should breeze out of Honoria's life again
and leave her to Templeton, quietly annul their marriage, let her
get on with things.

Something tightened inside him. No, Honoria
would not rid herself of Christopher that easily. She belonged to
him, even if Templeton was proving to be a likable rube.

Christopher opened his mouth to continue the
interesting conversation, but Templeton's face took on a look of
delight. "I say, is that not Lord Stoke?"

Christopher turned to see that, sure enough,
Finley had entered the tavern. Templeton went on happily, "I
thought I saw him at the Nines. I had the great honor of being
introduced to him once. He too is a friend of Miss Ardmore's
family."

"I know," Christopher answered. He'd once had
the great honor of moving Finley's nose to another part of his face
in a fight long ago about who knew what.

Finley began making his way across the room
to them as though he'd noticed Templeton and was coming to greet
him. Men moved aside for him, as per usual. Finley towered over
lesser beings, and the hardness in his eyes generally sent
gentlemen scrambling for cover.

Women, on the other hand, found him handsome,
so Christopher had been told. Except Honoria. She'd never had
anything polite to say about Finley, another thing Christopher
liked about her.

Finley's hair was a light smudge in the smoky
darkness of the tavern. He stopped at the end of their table, and
Templeton leapt to his feet. "My lord, how excellent to see you.
Would you join us? Unless, that is, you came to meet someone else?"
He was a friendly dog, begging for a pat.

"I'd be glad to join you," Finley said. He
glanced at Christopher, his expression neutral.

Christopher gave him a nod. "Your
lordship."

Finley's face did not change. A stool vacated
itself magically, and Finley drew it to the table and sat. The
barmaid, responding to Finley's blue eyes, slid a tankard in front
of him, and blushed when he smiled at her.

"Mr. Raine had just been telling me he is
acquainted with my betrothed's family," Templeton said as Finley
took a long draught of his ale. "Funny how one encounters people by
chance, and they prove to have a connection after all."

Finley stopped drinking for a split second,
and then swallowed and carefully set his tankard on the table. "I
am always encountering Mr. Raine by chance."

"Are you? How interesting."

It must have been Templeton's happiest
evening ever. He had the attention of a viscount, though he seemed
equally pleased to have met Christopher. Templeton and Finley
talked like old friends, while Christopher sat back and drank ale,
assessing Finley, whom he'd not seen in many years.

Finley's marriage had given him a new
stillness. Grayson Finley the pirate had always been recklessly
brave, as though he'd not cared whether he lived or died. Now he
seemed to have found a reason to live.

Christopher also noted that, while Finley
seemed to drink quite a lot as Mr. Templeton talked on, in truth,
he took in very little.

At long last, Templeton professed that he
must return home, although Mother would be that
tickled
to
know he'd spent his evening with a viscount. Finley gallantly
offered to return Templeton home in his carriage. Templeton tried
to refuse, but Finley insisted, and finally, Templeton slurred an
acceptance.

The two wove their way out of the tavern and
into the elegant carriage that pulled up in front of the door.
Christopher quietly entered the carriage with them, again saying
little as they wound north through Mayfair.

The carriage deposited Templeton in front of
a house near Cavendish Square, then rolled south again toward
Grosvenor Street.

Finley suddenly became much less drunk.
"Where are you staying?" he asked Christopher.

"Lodgings near the docks."

"Alexandra will insist you take a room with
us. We have many."

Christopher shook his head. "Colby and St.
Cyr are there. I'll use the lodgings."

The carriage moved slowly through the dark,
the light of the single lantern inside throwing shadows on the
satin padded walls. "Fine coach, this," Christopher said, touching
the fabric.

"Alexandra's idea. A lordship isn't allowed
to walk around the city, it seems. On the other hand, in the
country I'm supposed to be terribly hearty. Eight-hour walks,
three-day hunts, shooting in the freezing cold. The soft life of
the aristocrat."

"Surprised you came back to claim the title
at all."

Finley shrugged, his face in shadow. "It had
its compensations. You find another ship?"

"A brigantine. I'm refitting her in
Greenwich. I've rounded up most of my crew--except my first
officer."

"Manda," Finley said.

"I traced her to England, but my information
is old, and the evidence is not very good."

The news that Manda had traveled to England
had come from a Frenchman, and it was not reliable, but the
Frenchman had said he'd heard of her taking a ship across the
Channel. France was knee-deep in war with England at the moment,
and Christopher faced the reality that the ship could have been
captured, sunk, all aboard killed.

"I haven't seen her," Finley said. "I've
traveled a bit since my marriage, but I've never noticed Manda." He
chuckled. "And she's noticeable."

"I know."

The first thing men noticed about Manda was
how shapely she was. The second thing was her boots kicking their
teeth in. Christopher had never bothered to intervene when a man
tried to take Manda. Much more fun to watch what happened to
him.

But for all Manda's willingness to fight like
a man and sail a ship like a man, she was shy with men emotionally.
Christopher doubted she'd suddenly fallen in love and run off with
one. Besides, if she had, he'd have heard of it. Such an elopement
would be the talk of the shipping lanes.

"I heard a name," Christopher said. "An
offhand remark in a tavern near Le Havre. The name was Switton.
Mean anything to you?"

It was a long shot. The man in question had
said, "Wasn't she one of Switton's?" and the seaman with him had
shrugged.

"Never heard of him," Finley said. "But I'll
ask my wife. Alexandra is a walking Debrett's Peerage. She knows
every person in Mayfair, who their parents were, who they married,
where they went to school, and the names of their butlers."

Christopher grinned. "You have a butler,
Finley?"

"Not yet. Alexandra has her eye on one who
works for a duchess. She's trying to entice him to give notice and
come live with us. It's a hobby of aristocratic ladies to steal
each other's butlers, apparently."

Christopher shook his head. "I still can't
believe you turned into a viscount. The world has changed since I
died."

"I knew you wouldn't stay dead. You never
do."

The carriage halted before a tall,
many-windowed house in Grosvenor Street. Finley asked Christopher
to come inside, but Christopher declined and said he'd find a
hackney to take him back down to the docklands.

Before parting, Finley invited Christopher to
a fancy dress ball Alexandra was hosting the next evening. Their
new friend, Templeton would be there, as well as Templeton's
charming fiancee, Honoria.

Christopher told Grayson he wouldn't miss it
for the world.

*** *** ***

The house in Grosvenor Street overflowed with
guests for Lady Stoke's masked ball. Honoria usually loved
fancy-dress balls, and she'd enjoyed coming up with the costumes
with Diana, but tonight she was unnerved and restless, and thought
she'd rather do anything than face scores of rather nosy ladies and
gentlemen of the
ton.

But Diana insisted. After all, no one knew
about Honoria's secret marriage but Christopher and Diana. Until
Honoria and Christopher decided what was to be done about it,
Honoria must behave absolutely as usual.

Honoria bowed to her wisdom. She could do
this--she had the strength to.

She and Diana arrived early and closeted
themselves in Alexandra's dressing room to ready their costumes.
They'd agreed to dress as Greek ladies, in simple gowns that
fastened at the shoulders and hung to the floor. After all, Honoria
said, Greek costumes were little different from fashions nowadays
and easy to manage. She'd so enjoyed putting together the gowns
with Diana, but now she was jumpy and irritable.

When they at last they went downstairs, the
house was thronged with guests, Lady Stoke's parties always
popular. Rumor had it that at one of her soirees a few years ago, a
horde of pirates, many of them naked, had swept the house, battling
with the men and ravishing the ladies.

Honoria knew the real story, told to her by
Alexandra herself. The truth had involved one murderous pirate
who'd been out to kill Grayson Finley, cornering him at Alexandra's
soiree. Only one man had been naked--Mr. Jacobs, Grayson's
second-in-command, who'd dashed from a bedroom, sword in hand,
ready to defend Grayson and Alexandra.

The sight of Mr. Jacobs, a very handsome
young man wearing nothing but a cutlass, had sent most of the
ladies into happy swoons. From that day forward, invitations to
Alexandra's parties were much sought after, every lady inwardly
hoping that such an occurrence would happen again.

Tonight Honoria hoped for nothing more
exciting than spilled lemonade. But when she saw the cluster of
gentlemen waiting for them at the head of the stairs near the
ballroom, she wanted to turn and flee the other way.

But no, she could not let these things
unnerve her. She lifted her chin and walked on toward them, Diana
at her side.

Grayson Finley, Lord Stoke, smiled at the
ladies as they approached. Next to him stood Mr. Henderson, the
third-in-command on James's ship, the
Argonaut
. Mr.
Henderson, a tall, fair-haired gentleman who dressed impeccably and
wore gold-rimmed spectacles, had been assigned by James to
accompany Honoria and Diana to London for their protection. Once
they'd reached the safety of Diana's father's house, though, Diana
had told Mr. Henderson to spend his time soaking up luxury in his
sumptuous hotel and shopping for new suits.

Next to the pair of them stood Mr. Templeton.
He was dressed, of all things, like a pirate. Or at least, like a
fictional pirate. He wore striped trousers, a red shirt, a black
sash, a papier mache saber that was too long for him, and an eye
patch. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

Grayson's eyes twinkled with mischief, and
Honoria had a feeling she knew who'd engineered the costume.

But none of this made Honoria's heart pound
more sickeningly than the sight of her husband Christopher Raine
standing casually next to Mr. Templeton, watching Honoria with
sharp eyes, and giving her a small smile.

*****

Chapter Five

Like Grayson and Henderson, Christopher wore
an evening suit rather than a costume. He looked perfectly calm,
gray eyes dark in the lamplight, tanned skin golden. He wore his
pale hair in a plait, as usual, the hair that swirled back from his
temples a darker blond than the rest.

A large lump worked its way into Honoria's
throat. She'd not slept at all last night, and things had gone
fuzzy about the edges. Seeing Christopher, hard and handsome before
her, was not helping matters.

She wanted to do the little things a wife did
for a husband, brush a nonexistent piece of lint from his lapel,
smooth the coat on his shoulders, touch the strand of hair that was
just going gray.

It annoyed her that she wanted to do this
with Christopher but she had never, ever pictured herself doing
such things for Mr. Templeton. To hide this sudden realization, she
lifted her Grecian draperies and prepared to sweep past them all
and into the ballroom.

"No," Diana said. Her sister-in-law's fingers
were like vines that wrapped a trellis, light and thin, but strong
enough to crush. "We finish this."

"Ladies," Grayson said. He had a half grin on
his face and that blasted twinkle in his blue eyes.

Diana smiled at him and held out her hand.
Grayson bowed over it. He bent over Honoria's hand as well, giving
her a wink with the impudent grin.

Honoria scarcely noticed. Christopher's
presence filled her vision, and all her senses burned at the
nearness of him.

Mr. Henderson bowed to the two ladies,
leaving their hands alone. Mr. Templeton greeted them both with
delight and pressed a light kiss to the backs of Honoria's fingers.
He made some jesting reference to his costume, but Honoria did not
hear a word.