“There are far more women,” I noted.
His smile became one of genuine mirth. “And the men are better dressed. And there is no rum.”
“Oui, odd, is that not?”
He grinned. “They will be less likely to kill one another.”
I looked about and grinned. “That is probably unfortunate.”
When I turned back to him, he pulled my mouth to his and kissed me with equal parts love and passion.
I grinned anew when he released me. “Now I believe I can thank the Gods for bringing us home.”
One Hundred and Sixteen
Wherein We See What Has Followed Us
Theodore and the Marquis were anxiously awaiting our return—despite being nearly as drunk as my matelot. I put them to bed with assurances they seemed willing but unable to believe. I knew I would be recounting the entirety of my conversation with the king in the morning. I towed Gaston upstairs and was delighted to discover he was not so inebriated as to be unable to fulfill the promise his earlier kiss had offered.
In the morning, I woke sluggishly to find him sitting at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and a water bottle between his knees.
“And how are we this morning?” I whispered.
He sighed and slowly moved to lie beside me. “I cannot do that every time we must… Whatever it is we must do as members of his court.”
“My hope is that you will not always feel the need.”
He was thoughtful. “I do not feel I will. You…” He smiled. “I am very proud of you. You spar well with a dragon.”
“Non, non,” I said. “I danced nimbly about before him, so as to give him a small and difficult target should he choose to swat.”
“Well, you did that well. Was that your Horse, or your Wolf?”
I snorted. “That, my love, was very much my Man. My Wolf was cowering under the settee, and my Horse was tugging on the reins trying to reach the door.”
“I have always loved your Man,” he said with love and amusement.
“And I yours, and I was very proud of Him last night,” I said.
“We must inure Him—so that I might eschew the wine.” He frowned. “Who was that bastard flirting with you?”
“I believe he said he was Lord Rochester.” I recalled the handsome, suave, and very drunk, yet witty, lord. Even more than Thorp, he was a ghost of what I might have become if not for Gaston.
“I do not like him,” my matelot said.
“Because he flirted with me?” I teased.
He shook his head with a frown. “I remember thinking I should challenge him, and then I met his gaze and realized he was waiting for me to do just that. He is… He needs to be thrown at Spaniards or some other foe. He has a wish for death.”
“Sadly, I think you we will find many men like that here. They have little to live for—without love… And that is a thing they will ever deny themselves.”
“Why?” he asked, and then astutely answered his question. “Because they think it will make them weak.”
“Oui, and they are jaded and cynical. I was once like them.”
He shook his head. “Non, you have ever been the fool who believed in love.”
“How do you know? You did not see me as I once was.”
He sighed. “Because I know you.” His hand cupped my piss-hard cock.
I gasped. “My love, you have an aching head. Do not torment me.”
He held still a moment and then awarded me a rueful smile. “Oui, my head hurts too much to torment you. We will have to settle for my merely giving pleasured ease.”
I chuckled. “Damn the luck. But truly, you need not.” My cock was growing harder still beneath his ministrations. It told me I was a liar and fool, and I really should not speak for everyone.
“Shut up,” Gaston said tiredly. “I love you.”
I laughed and surrendered.
We at last marched dutifully downstairs to find frowning and anxious faces.
“Now, what did His Majesty say?” Theodore asked as we ate.
I smiled and gave our friends a thorough report of our royal audience—through which Theodore cringed a great deal. When I at last finished with the news of our new home and my new titles, there was much rejoicing.
“I cannot believe he simply granted you the estate,” Theodore all but crowed.
“Believe it,” I said. “Well, at least after the papers granting it arrive. He was not drunk when he said it.”
“I agree that we will need to leave if his brother succeeds him,” the Marquis said thoughtfully.
“When and before,” I agreed. “Until then, we will live in peace.”
“I cannot believe you told the King of England you killed a priest,” Liam said.
“I was testing his mettle,” I said.
“The Gods love you,” Liam said.
“Aye,” I said. “Apparently They are as blind as my matelot.”
“So,” Rachel said, “now we wait until the funeral service and then move?”
“Funeral service, the reading of the will, and then the burial,” Theodore said. “And then we can move.”
There was little to do but wait. To pass the time, and because it must be done, Gaston and I fortified ourselves with a little brandy and crept into Shane’s and then my father’s rooms to seek and sort. In my cousin’s quarters we found nothing but further evidence of the sad and lonely thing his life had become. My father’s yielded a box of coin and other valuables, and a satchel with a great many letters: all from me, or pertaining to me and from Jamaica: from my uncle, Theodore, Modyford, and several other agents. We shared these and a bottle with Theodore and the Marquis. We learned nothing new from them; their presence merely made us aware of yet more pus-filled pockets of grievance we needed to drain and air.
Waking after another night of drink, I wondered what the day would bring; hopefully not more wine. Gaston filled us with water and encouraged me to stay abed. As I could think of nothing better to do, and no one had come pounding on the door, I happily complied.
We finally rose in the afternoon and began organizing the clearing of my father and Shane’s rooms. Some things we ordered packed, but most we ordered either cleaned or destroyed. When at last we finished, I surveyed my father’s room with curiosity; only to determine I would never ever wish to reside in it. Despite being devoid of all but furniture, it still seemed filled with some tainted miasma I was sure no cleansing ritual of Hannah’s could address.
“This place is tainted,” I told my matelot. “Or perhaps it is all in my head.”
“Non, it is tainted,” he agreed.
I turned my back on it and closed the door, thanking the Gods I would never be forced to live here.
To our delight, Sarah, Rucker, and Bones arrived while we dined that evening. We rushed to greet them, and soon we gathered in the parlor.
“Now where is Pete?” Sarah asked.
“I imagine he is either dead or sailing here,” I said.
Sarah sighed and slumped, and all the cheery good health she had seemed to possess ebbed considerably, leaving her to look as she truly was, pregnant. Striker put an arm around her and got her situated in a chair.
I took a chair and accepted a bottle from Gaston and began to relate our tale with little detail.
“So wait,” Sarah said as I mentioned our arrival at Cow Island. “You kept Christine with you?”
“Aye, and Pete took her on as matelot,” I said. I thought it likely—despite Striker’s apparent understanding—that I still did not wish to discuss that matter in detail. The look of warning Striker gave me from behind his wife’s shoulder said I was on the correct path. “He pretended to take her as matelot: in order for us to disguise her as a boy,” I added quickly.
Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed. Then she waved for me to continue. She did not interrupt again until I spoke of our father’s death; and then not with words: her expression and comportment brought me to a halt as she glanced about the r
oom with a frown.
“What?” I asked.
She met my gaze with a speculative one. “Is that how it truly occurred?” she asked with challenge.
I blinked. “Aye. They killed one another.”
“Why would Shane do such a thing?” she asked.
I realized I had been far too glib in my recounting of events. “As I said, Shane arrived while we waited on the then-mysterious Whyse, and we talked. He… apologized, and I forgave him.”
“How drunk was he?” she asked with an air of derision that raised my ire.
“We laid everything to rest between us,” I said firmly. “I do not doubt his sincerity in those final minutes of his life.”
She all but smirked, “Aye, aye, and Doucette fell down the stairs in a storm: you all saw it.”
I looked about for support and found only Gaston: no one else present had been there: the room was hung with new-found doubt. “There were witnesses,” I said dully. “Jenkins and his men, and then Captain Horn.”
“Of course there were, Will,” she said with a tired sigh. “I have heard much of this Whyse from Mister Theodore and the Marquis. Everything is as it should be. You have inherited; and we will bury them; and all will be well.” She awarded me a disappointed gaze.
“Will did not kill them,” Gaston growled. “And neither did I. It occurred as Will said.”
I had had enough, and the appearance of his Horse brought forth mine. Nay, the appearance of her Horse had. I stood. “You bitch! You are very much our father’s daughter. Do not even think to compare me to him again. Shane loved me. Though that is not a thing you or our thrice-damned father could ever understand!” I strode out of the room and kept walking until I found the street.
Gaston was with me a moment later, and we walked down the ill-lit cobbles cooling our Horses for a time. I was distantly aware that we were shadowed by men from the house, but as they kept a discreet distance, I did not feel we need trample them.
Slowly, calmer words coalesced. “I will always be haunted by my past sins, I fear.”
“Oui, we both will,” my matelot agreed with sadness.
“And I do not understand her Horse. I feel if I did, then perhaps I could make peace with the animal.”
He sighed. “I feel she does not understand the animal, either. She was quite surprised and distraught at your reaction. It did not appear she sought to anger you.”
“Non, non, because I am such a liar that being called one should never anger me.” I sighed.
He slipped his arm around my shoulders, and I sighed again and relaxed into him.
A youth stepped into the pool of light from the street lamp ahead. We stopped, and I heard the men behind us hurry forward—and furtive movement in the shadows of the alley from which the boy had emerged. My hand went to my pistol and Gaston’s did likewise.
“Will? Gaston?” the youth hissed with a voice I recognized with a gasp of joy.
“Chris? Thank the Gods!” I cried.
The men Liam had hired appeared beside us.
“Nay, nay, it is well,” I told them as Gaston and I raced to embrace Chris.
“I told you!” he said firmly to the alley, and then Pete was upon us.
He was followed by Cudro, Ash, and Pierrot. And we embraced and pounded one another’s backs, and Pete pulled the hats and wigs from our heads and kissed us both soundly on the mouth.
“You are well!” Pierrot finally stepped back and proclaimed. “I have sailed here like a madman and angered men I have known for years; we have ridden here like madmen at the risk of Chris’ health; and here you are dressed as gentlemen and strolling down the street?”
I stammered for where to begin.
Gaston stepped in and took his old friend’s arm to whisper, “Thank you, we could not thank you enough. It is only by the Grace of the Gods that we are thus. If things had gone differently, you would have been our last beacon of hope.”
This calmed Pierrot.
“Long story?” Pete asked—in French: with excellent pronunciation.
I laughed. “Oh, oui. Let us return to the house and the wine.”
“Is it safe there?” Cudro asked and eyed the men around us. “We’ve been standing out here for hours trying to decide how to proceed.”
I laughed as I realized how relieved I was Pete had not decided to attack the house. “It is safe. Liam hired these men,” I said quickly. “And oui, it is my house. My father died. I am the Seventh Earl of Dorshire.”
“Well then, my lord,” Chris said and bowed.
Pete clumsily pushed my wig and hat onto my head and eyed the men. “Liam needs to hire better. They were slow.”
“Non, you do,” I said with a grin.
He met my gaze, and in the dim lamp light I saw the glimpse of ancient wisdom. He nodded solemnly and cleared his throat as he placed his hand on Chris’ head.
“Wife.” He pointed at her coat-covered belly. “Baby.”
“If it is still well after that ride,” Pierrot said.
Chris snorted and smiled indulgently at the captain. “I am fine. It is fine. I ride better than you. I am sure your arse will be bruised for a week.”
“Oui,” he said emphatically as we began to walk toward the house.
Gaston was embracing Pete and then Chris and whispering in their ears.
“Truly,” I said as we walked. “There will be much we will need you all for if you are inclined. The king wishes for us to attend court.” I pointed at Gaston and myself.
“You specifically?” Chris asked.
“Oui: he has taken a liking to me, apparently.”
“What a pity,” he teased and then asked astutely, “Are you ready for that?”
“Non,” I said quickly.
Chris grinned. “Well, at least someone has dressed you well.”
“We have acquired a house we can live in out of the city,” Gaston said happily. “And there are business assets the R and R Merchant Company can assume.”
“Oui,” I added. “It is a boon to all.”
“You did it,” Cudro said.
I shook my head. “Though not even my sister believes it… Non, we arrived here and things unfolded such as they did with little action on our part. My cousin shot my father and they battled and died. We were quite fortunate, considering what my father had prepared for us. And then Theodore and the Marquis were already working with the king’s man on our behalf, and…”
“Wait,” Cudro said. “Are the others here and not in Holland?”
“Striker’s here?” Pete asked with worry.
“Oui and oui,” I said.
We were nearing the house, and I saw Striker, Liam, and Bones standing in the lamplight near the courtyard gate, waiting. They tensed with alarm as we emerged into the light; until they saw who surrounded us. Then the whooping and embracing began anew.
When it died down, Pete and Striker were still holding one another, whispering. They finally kissed deeply, but in the manner of two parting. Then Striker turned to grin at Chris.
“Well, congratulations,” he said sincerely.
Chris’ eyes were lambent. “Striker, please don’t ever think I won him.”
He shook his head quickly. “Nay, he’s a thing one earns.” He looked at his former matelot and grinned. “Nay, he’s a thing one gets cursed with. So perhaps I should be offering condolences.”
Chris laughed and embraced him. “I will take very good care of him,” she said so quietly that I only heard because I stood next to them.
“Please do,” Striker whispered back.
“Let’s go in and tell the others,” Liam said.
“Sarah will be surprised,” Striker said with worry as he looked from Pete to Chris and back again. Then he looked to me and sighed. “She did not mean…”
“I know,” I said. Then I met his gaze firmly. “I did not lie.”
He did not flinch from my gaze. “I think most of us know that. The Marquis and Theodore surely think you didn’t. S
he just caught us by surprise. I’m sorry if…”
I shook my head.
“She went upstairs and told me to get out. She’s… Well it’s just how she is when she’s pregnant.”
I thought it likely it was just how she was, and when she was not pregnant she was better at wearing a mask; but since she was now always pregnant… “If you do not mind, I would like to tell her the good news.”
“Please,” he said with a look of relief.
“I will go,” Gaston said.
I acquiesced; with what surely appeared to be an expression similar to Striker’s. Though I did want to speak with her, and knew we must make peace in some manner, I did not relish the chore.
We entered the parlor and bodies began to swirl in greeting once again; and then the wine was passed around, and food was brought; and the explanations began to pour from lips in colorful, tangled skeins that eventually sorted themselves into the tapestry of our lives since we had last stood together. It was a beauteous thing, made yet more so by our all being here to heap wonder and praise upon it.
Sarah and Gaston had joined us during the tale telling, and now I found her regarding me as the conversation slowed. “I am sorry,” she mouthed.
I nodded and shrugged with vague forgiveness.
At last everyone began to find places to sleep for the night. Gaston and I slipped away to our room.
“I feel great relief,” Gaston said as he shed clothing.
“As do I,” I agreed as I, too, threw off the trappings of civilization. “Soon we will meet up with the girls and the children, and then we can all become safely ensconced in the House of Venus and all will be well.” I sighed, and he regarded me with concern. “Perhaps,” I amended. “I have not felt true worry about Pete and Chris and the others. I suppose I assumed the Gods would help them find their way here, but… In the same vein of trusting my belly, or perhaps my Horse, I feel that there will ever be things that will be a burr under our saddle.”
“Sarah?” he asked.
“Oui, and Striker: I am concerned that he is far too accepting of Pete’s new situation.”
At that, Gaston sighed. “Sarah is not accepting of it.”
“Lovely.”
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