by Unknown
Adrian regarded her in thoughtful silence a moment. "Has it occurred to you that too close an association with them is likely to lead to the discovery of your sex?"
"Oh! Is that what's botherin' you? Ain't nobody ever figured that out but you. People see what they expect to see, you know. Just like they hear what they want to hear. There really ain't a bit of harm in them, when all's said and done, and I think they kinda like the idea of takin' me under their wing.
Been tellin' me all sorts of tales about the seaman's life, showin' me around the ship, teachin' me all kinds of knots. I done got the sheepshank figured out already, and I expect before we make landfall, I'll be a pretty good sailor. Which I figure's what they got in mind," she added with a twinkle of mischievous laughter in her eyes. "They figure bein' a sailor's a lot better than workin' your fingers to nubbin's on land. An' I ain't sure but what they might be right. I ain't exactly got no burnin' desire to tote slop jars and scrub floors. 'Course I will, if that's what you want," she added quickly. "But I ain't gonna make no promises that I'll stay with whoever you sell my papers to," she finished with a touch of belligerence.
Adrian said nothing, merely regarding her in thoughtful silence. The picture she'd painted of the life she envisioned as a servant wasn't the sort of life that was likely to appeal to anyone. And she was right. That was all she could expect. It was unlikely that anyone would take a young woman with her background into their home and place her in any of the higher servants' positions. The most menial labor would fall to her lot, backbreaking labor that aged people before their time. He knew then that that would never do for Danielle. He would simply have to consider the matter and find a more palatable solution. Perhaps he would keep her after all, he thought musingly. He could then see her placed in a good position where she would be safe from abuse.
After a moment, a mischievous twinkle lit her eyes once more, and she grinned up at him impishly. "You wouldn't be worryin' 'bout them findin' out about me if you'd heard some of the things they was sayin'."
"And what were they telling you?" Adrian queried with a slight smile, charmed despite himself by her mischievous smile.
She chuckled. "They was tellin' me how that rye they was passin' around would put hair on my chest. Said I was a right handsome fella, I was, an' as how, if I put a little meat on me, I'd be a great hit with the whores," she said, laughing till she was nearly breathless. She became aware after a moment, however, that Adrian didn't share her mirth, that, in fact, he appeared singularly vexed, and favored him with a questioning look.
"I should think that sort of talk would convince you, if nothing else would, that they are not fit company for you," he said, his voice cold with anger.
"Well, it ain't like I learned somethin' new," she said. "That sort of thing goes on all the time where I used to live," she added with a chuckle, then frowned. "An' I'll thank you for not lookin' at me as if you was feelin' sorry for me or somethin'. I been doin' just fine, an' I don't need that from nobody," she snapped.
"What you need is discipline," Adrian said evenly. "You've run wild entirely too long. And don't tell me you don't know what's respectable and what isn't, for I'm certain that the vicar would have considered your moral education every bit as important as teaching you to read and write, probably more so."
She blushed uncomfortably, averting her face, but though she was strongly tempted to inform him that he was a likely one for preaching morality considering some of the things she'd heard about him, not to mention his liaison with the charming widow down the companionway, he was quite right about the vicar. And although she felt that it was unjust to chastise her for the sort of life she'd been living when she'd had no choice about the thing at all, she also knew that Vicar Pugh would not only have been severely disappointed to hear her speak of such things, he would've used his birch rod to teach her the error of her ways. The thought, coming on top of Adrian's rebuke, made her feel so ashamed she felt a strong urge to weep. She had not only respected the vicar very highly, she'd come as close to loving him as the father she'd never had as made no difference at all.
Finally, she raised her eyes to his, chastened, and yet with the strong urge to vindicate herself. "He did, but that was a long time ago, an' I learned a lot of things since then, an' even if he hadn't wanted me to, I couldn't help it," she whispered unsteadily, setting her jaw stubbornly to keep her chin from quivering.
Adrian studied her compassionately. He could well imagine the sort of things she'd been exposed to. Crime ran rampant in the seedier parts of London. Whores plied their wares on every street corner and entertained their customers in alleys and darkened doorways. Murder was a daily occurrence. And pickpockets, footpads, and beggars jostled pimps and highwaymen on the crowded thoroughfares. Just imagining her in some of the situations she'd been exposed to made him feel both ill and angry.
Why, he wasn't certain. In general, he was as oblivious to the goings on in the London slums as anyone else of the wealthy ruling class. But it did disturb him, and he simply accepted it at that and dismissed it. "I realize that, infant," he said gently, "but that does not mean that you must descend to their level. I know you've had some very bad experiences, seen far more than any child should ever have seen, particularly an impressionable young woman. But as you yourself said, there are some things that are better left behind you, in the past where they can't touch you."
She wrinkled her brow in thought. "You mean I should pretend it never happened. None of it? Sorta act like I never left the Christian home, like I don't know nothin' about them sort of things?" she asked doubtfully.
"Something like that," Adrian replied, smiling faintly.
"Oh," she said after a moment, then frowned thoughtfully, deciding that, perhaps, it made him uncomfortable somehow. "I'm pretty good at pretendin'." She chewed her lower lip indecisively, then raised troubled eyes to his. "Thing is, I don't see how I can cut the blokes when they ain't really done nothin'. I mean, how am I supposed to act now? They been so friendly it don't hardly seem right to cut them now," she finished, averting her face.
Adrian tucked one finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up, gazing into her dark, expressive eyes, realizing with sudden insight just how easy it would be to lose himself in those amber depths that gazed up at him now with so much trust. He swallowed hard against the strange stirrings in his chest. "It isn't necessary to stay completely away from them," he said finally, realizing that it would be impossible for her to do so since he couldn't confine her to the cabin, as much as he would like to, as little as he relished the idea of her associating with the other men aboard ship. "Simply make your visits short ones. And if they begin to discuss things you know you shouldn't listen to, discover some task you must do for me," he finished, allowing his hand to drop as he discovered within himself a strong desire to caress her trembling lips with his own to soothe her distress.
She frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I could do that easily enough. Does this mean I shouldn't eat in the mess with them either?" she asked anxiously, perfectly willing to comply with his wishes, and yet struggling with the anxiety that, should she wait till the sailors had finished their meal to slip into the mess, she might discover that there was nothing left to eat.
Adrian's smile widened as he reached to flick the tip of her nose playfully, then tousled the bright copper curls that drew his eyes, demanding his touch. "No, infant, and I expect I've kept you from your meal long enough. Go."
She went with obvious relief. Adrian stared thoughtfully at the closed door for some time after she'd gone. He had succeeded in his aim and without the battle of wills he'd had no desire to engage in. And yet somehow he was dissatisfied. It occurred to him after a moment that that was because he knew full well the ruling factor in his decision to discuss the matter had little to do with logic. It had rather more to do with the fact that he had found Danny's familiarity with the sailors deeply, personally disturbing. He had no desire to probe that reaction too c
losely, however, and turned his thoughts in another direction, pondering the intriguing creature that she was.
Her philosophy had allowed her to live a life that should have hardened her. But because she had the unique ability to put her worst experiences behind her, without really allowing them to touch her, she yet retained a touching innocence. She bore scars for all that, he knew, and he realized that that was part of his dissatisfaction. He wished with surprising vehemence that he could erase those experiences from her life.
He frowned at that thought. But somehow he couldn't quite shake the idea, and, in the days that followed, he found himself correcting her each time she lapsed into the cockney she'd picked up in the years she'd spent in the streets. Perhaps he, too, was pretending in a way, he thought ruefully. But, even as he couldn't erase her past, he couldn't resist the temptation to erase its effects on her.
Surprisingly enough, they fell into a comfortable relationship that would've horrified the very proper gentleman's gentleman Adrian had had to leave behind when he'd agreed to his hurried exodus to the colonies. It was an unusual relationship, part master/servant, part teacher/pupil, and, even more surprisingly, a companionable friendship.
For the most part, he regarded her as the infant he frequently called her. Or the boy she played so well, tousling her bright copper curls with careless affection when she responded pertly to some chance remark; chastising her sternly when she displeased him; correcting her speech and manners constantly; and occasionally teasing her playfully for no other reason than to provoke a flash of temper. But he watched her progress intently for all that. And there were times when he found himself responding rather disturbingly to her.
It was disconcerting, but he knew that the mannerisms she used to charm him were completely unconscious, and somehow that only increased their appeal. It was the play with her dark eyes that fascinated him most; the sidelong glances from beneath her lashes, a secret smile curving her very tempting lips while she uttered some deliberately provocative remark; when she gazed up at him wide-eyed with feigned innocence, immediately after some prank that provoked his wrath; when merriment danced in her eyes as she related some incident she'd witnessed; when she sat at his feet and gazed up at him with rapt attention on those few occasions when she could persuade him to read to her; or when she studied him from beneath her lashes when she thought him unaware of her scrutiny.
The most trying times for him, of course, when it was impossible to avoid the fact that she was certainly neither child nor boy, were those when she took her bath. He did his best to ignore her, resolutely keeping his back to her while he tried to concentrate on the book before him, but the sounds of her at her bath evoked tantalizing images for all that. And on one particularly trying occasion, he was provoked into snapping at her with more heat that he'd intended when he became convinced that she was deliberately prolonging her bath to torment him. "Cease, for God's sake!" he snapped testily, unable to pretend any longer that he was unaware of her.
Danielle jumped at the abrupt command and stared at his rigid back blankly. "What?"
"Must you persist in caterwauling every time you crawl into that damned tub?" Adrian ground out irritably, unable to think of anything else he might reasonably complain about, particularly since he felt far from reasonable at the moment. He didn't dare turn around to address her. The idea was far too tempting.
"Caterwaulin'!" Danielle gasped indignantly, too surprised at the suddenness of the attack to react to the asinine suggestion that she bathe elsewhere, when they both knew that was impossible.
"Caterwauling!" Adrian corrected through gritted teeth. He'd scarcely uttered the remark when her sopping washcloth landed on the table beside him with an audible splat, sending a shower of droplets all over his book and coat sleeve. He was out of his chair and had whirled to face her before he thought better of it.
He was almost immediately sorry. The scene before him bore so striking a kinship to the thoughts he'd had before that he came to an abrupt halt, as stunned as if he'd smacked into a brick wall, and simply stared at her, unable to move or even think coherently. He became aware after several moments had passed, however, of the mixture of fear and stunned surprise in her expression, and slowly sanity returned and with it both remorse and shame. For he knew that, considering her previous experiences, her behavior was more a sign of trust than provocation.
He took great care thereafter to absent himself whenever possible when she performed her ablutions. Even so, he endured some trying times, for on those occasions when she played the lady for him, he discovered that he couldn't refrain from responding to her as if it were real and not a game they played at for amusement.
Perhaps it was the wine, although he couldn't blame it entirely on that circumstance, but there came a time when he responded to her play in a way he hadn't consciously intended, when he allowed himself to be charmed by her amusing antics and, caught up in her play, had bowed and requested a dance.
Danny peered up at him with merriment dancing in her eyes. "I'm prodigiously flattered, my lord. But I fear I must decline. My program's full, you see."
"Ah. But I insist," Adrian responded and swept her into his arms and twirled her about the room, humming a tune to accompany their waltz.
Danielle grinned up at him impishly. "In that case, I bow to your wishes, my lord. And I must say, you do dance divinely. But I'll hum the tune myself, for you're sadly off-key," she added with a chuckle and proceeded to do so as she dipped and swayed to the music in her head, laughing up at him breathlessly when the dance had come to an end. "Thank you, my lord. I enjoyed that very much."
Adrian gazed down into her laughing eyes and found he had no desire to release her. He shook his head slowly, smiling faintly. "You've broken the spell now, infant. No one but a rustic would ever admit enjoyment of anything so simple as a dance."
Danielle felt her pleasure fade at his words. Her smile collapsed, though she replaced it almost at once with a rather wobbly, lopsided attempt. She had difficulty maintaining it, however, and her gaze very quickly faltered and fell to his cravat. "Then I must be a rustic," she piped in a voice that sounded decidedly strained.
She felt his arms tighten about her and looked up again. His expression, she saw, was unreadable now. "That wasn't meant as a rebuke," he said softly and forced a slight smile. "But I see I'll have to take care in future of tender feelings."
She forced a scoffing chuckle. "Who, me?" she quipped. "You've no worry for that. I've a tough hide, guvnor, you may be sure."
"Tough as whit leather, I suppose?" he said dryly and reached to stroke her cheek very gently.
Her eyes widened at the unexpected caress and no less at the look that had come into his eyes, which, though she didn't really understand it, caused a rush of adrenaline through her that left limp putty in its wake. She swallowed against a mass that felt like a turkey egg, found she'd misplaced her voice, and merely nodded acknowledgement.
He shook his head slowly. "I think not. I definitely think not, and what a temptation it is to see which of us is right."
Danielle's eyes widened wider still, and her lips grew dry, this time with a very identifiable emotion.
He saw it, knew it, realized finally that he'd meant to say it and then do it. The realization so startled him that he closed it off at once and released her. Turning away, he flung a jesting remark over his shoulder, though what he said he could never afterwards recall.
Unfortunately, he couldn't dismiss his new awareness of her femininity as easily, (if new it was) despite the fact that he took care not to participate in her games thereafter. For he found to his annoyance, that he was as aware of her in her absence as he was in her presence, that he'd fallen all unwittingly under the spell of her dark eyes and charming smiles.
For her part, Danielle regarded Adrian in the light of an agreeable companion, since most of her fear and wariness of him had vanished the moment she realized he had no intention of ravishing her
, indeed hardly seemed aware of her as a female at all. But, for all that she played the part of a boy so well and pretended an off-handed indifference, she was acutely aware of the difference in Adrian's attitude towards her. And Adrian's new awareness of her heightened her own towards him. And that subtle change between them both alarmed and intrigued her, yielding much the same fascination as playing with fire.
Still, her wariness might have overcome her curiosity except for one circumstance. Adrian was the sort of man who charmed women of all ages quite unconsciously, and regardless of his wishes, and with deadly accuracy when he put himself out to charm. And Danielle was by no means proof against that powerful charisma, no matter the distrust she'd learned of men in general.
Thus, she found herself responding to that dynamic magnetism quite regardless of her will to resist, and with very much the same horror as she would've felt had someone suggested she engage in a lighthearted game of Russian roulette. She took great pains to convince herself that she was merely responding with friendliness to friendliness. She went to such pains to please him simply because it was wiser to do so, stupid to bite the hand that fed. And because of an unacknowledged hope that he would see fit to keep her if she pleased him well. But she wasn't completely successful. And those things she couldn't discount, she simply ignored.
As for his campaign to improve her, she was surprised at first. But finally she decided, since she'd heard so many disparaging remarks from the gentry concerning the lower classes, that her coarse speech and manners offended him. And since, for all her avowal that it mattered not a whit to her that the sod didn't want her, it mattered a great deal, she fell in quite readily with his wishes. If it pleased him, she figured, it was little enough to ask in return for something so coveted as security, surely?