Never Trust a Pirate

by Valerie Bowman

  The words, “Is that all that you’re interested in? Kissing?” burned in her brain.

  “No … certainly not,” Danielle lied.

  “I hesitated to allow him to escort you,” Lady Daphne continued. “He promised to be on his best behavior. Was he?”

  Danielle had to swallow the smile that popped to her lips. She suspected he had been on his best behavior. The man was a complete rogue. “Yes,” she answered emphatically. “Of course. Though he did … meet a friend in the street.”

  “Oh, no!” Daphne turned in her seat to face Danielle. “Not some criminal or ne’er-do-well.”

  “I couldn’t say, my lady,” Danielle replied. “Her name was Miss Jones. She seemed to be…” Danielle cleared her throat. “Quite close to Mr. Cavendish.”

  Daphne shook her head. “Her Christian name wasn’t Amanda, was it?”

  Danielle’s eyes widened. “You know her?”

  “I’m sorry to say we’ve met once. Under some very trying circumstances. Suffice it to say that Miss Jones mistook Rafe for Cade and it was … quite distressing.”

  Danielle resumed the brushing. “Oh, my lady, I can only guess.”

  “I didn’t care much for that tart,” Lady Daphne continued. “I cannot believe she’d be bold enough to stop him in the street. Wait. Yes, I can. She was quite bold indeed.”

  “Agreed,” Danielle murmured. “At any rate, it was kind of Mr. Cavendish to escort Mary and me to Bond Street.”

  Lady Daphne sighed. “I’m pleased to hear that you don’t regret it. I do worry about him.”

  That was intriguing. “You worry about him, my lady?”

  “Yes, quite a lot. When he first arrived in London we were shocked. You see, Rafe had believed his brother was dead.”

  “Is that so?” She continued to brush Lady Daphne’s pretty hair.

  “Rafe hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade and had heard he’d been … I can trust you to keep this confidential, can’t I?”

  Danielle nodded but a vision of Grimaldi hovered in the back of her mind.

  “Rafe had heard that Cade had been in gaol,” Lady Daphne continued.

  “Gaol?” Danielle did her best to feign surprise. Surely Grimaldi already knew that.

  Lady Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Let’s just say Cade hasn’t always been on the correct side of the law.”

  Neither have I. “Yet you allow him into your home, my lady?”

  “He’s family. We would never shut him out. Besides, we don’t know of anything he’s done lately.”

  “I understand, my lady. I hope you don’t think I’m prying.” She wanted to ask Lady Daphne if she thought Cade would steal from his own brother. “Do you know of any business ventures Mr. Cavendish is involved in?”

  Daphne frowned. “Business? No. I mean we always assume he’s up to something. Mostly gambling and the occasional fight, but I’ve never known him to have an occupation. Not a proper one at least. He and Rafe have a complicated relationship.”

  “What do you think of him, my lady?” Gambling might explain the large purse. Perhaps he was tres, tres good at gambling.

  Lady Daphne tapped her cheek with one finger. “I think.” She sighed again. “I think he’s a good man who lost his way.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry if he’s been untoward to you, Danielle. If he bothers you, please do not hesitate to tell me or Lord Cavendish. I’d like to think we’re friends and you can be honest with me.”

  Friends? Yet again, that word. Not only was Danielle pretending to be a maid and hiding in the woman’s house, but she just might be trying to ruin her brother-in-law and send him back to gaol. There was no way beautiful, kind Lady Daphne wouldn’t end up hating her.

  “Mr. Cavendish has been no bother,” Danielle said instead. “No bother at all.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Daphne Cavendish sat at the dressing table in her bedchamber, staring at her reflection in the glass. She wore a dressing gown and her hair was mussed, having just been thoroughly ravished by her gorgeous husband. Rafe stood behind her, shrugging into his shirt.

  “The servants are going to talk, you know, as many nights as we spend in here together,” Daphne said, dragging a brush through her hair.

  “Good. Let them talk,” Rafe replied. “I refuse to leave your bed, my lady. Not after having to wait for so long to get back into it after we were married.”

  Daphne giggled. “Shh. We’re not supposed to discuss that.”

  Rafe glanced around, grinning. “You may not have noticed but we’re quite alone at the moment.”

  “That reminds me. We won’t be alone for long. Delilah is coming to visit tomorrow. She insists she is coming to see the new house, but I have my suspicions she wants to sneak down to the ball.” Delilah was Daphne’s irascible thirteen-year-old cousin who had a penchant for matchmaking, speaking deplorable French, and causing mischief.

  “Why don’t you tell her she can’t come until the week after?” Rafe asked, pulling on his breeches.

  Daphne stared at him through the looking glass and shook her head. “You’ve met Delilah. One simply doesn’t tell that girl no.”

  Rafe threw back his head and laughed. “Yes, well, let her sneak down to the ball then. What’s the harm?”

  “The harm is she’ll get a reputation for being a heathen at the ripe old age of thirteen.”

  “Lord help the young men of the marriage mart five years from now.”

  Daphne nodded. “You’re perfectly right. I’m already preparing myself for her debut.”

  Rafe sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. He sighed loud and long.

  “You look tired, darling. Is something the matter?” Daphne set the brush down and turned to face him.

  Rafe left off with his boot and shrugged. His shoulders fell. “It’s Cade.”

  Daphne pulled her dressing gown up higher. “What about Cade?”

  “I want to know why he’s come back.”

  “He said it’s high time he paid a visit.”

  “It’s never that simple with Cade. He’s up to something. He’s been going out until all hours. Meeting with people. And that fight the night of the theater.”

  “You said yourself that your brother’s always been a bit of … trouble.”

  “This is more than trouble. He may be in something over his head.”

  “I know you’re worried, darling, but try not to assume the worst.”

  “That’s a difficult thing to do when Cade is involved.”

  Daphne stood, walked over to her husband, and bent down to kiss him. “Just try, darling. By the by, Cass tells me Lucy Hunt has her sights set on figuring out Cade’s secrets. Perhaps she can inform you of them once she’s done.”

  Rafe laughed. “Best of luck to her. I can’t figure him out and I’m a spy.”

  Daphne rested a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t suspect anything truly serious, do you?”

  Cade scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “Have you heard of the Black Fox?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “The flowers will go there and the refreshments over there.” Lady Daphne twirled around in the middle of the empty ballroom. “Oh, and we must remember to purchase more candles for the chandeliers.”

  Mr. Ayers, Lord Cavendish’s personal secretary, busily scribbled notes in his ledger while following Lady Daphne as she flitted around the room like a butterfly. Danielle stood near the doors watching the proceedings. “Yes, my lady,” Mr. Ayers said after every one of Lady Daphne’s requests.

  “The musicians will go over there, of course, and I want the dancing to be centered around this area here.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Mr. Ayers replied breathlessly.

  Lady Daphne turned to face him. “You look a bit flushed, Mr. Ayers. Are you quite all right?”

  “I think I may need a drink of water, my lady,” the poor man admitted.

  Danielle hurried toward them. “By all means, go to the kitchens and Cook will get you some
. I’ll take over here. I’m more than happy to be of use.”

  “Thank you kindly, Miss LaCrosse.” Mr. Ayers handed Danielle his ledger and quill and scurried from the room before Lady Daphne could stop him.

  Danielle crossed over to the small table the man had set up and dunked the quill in the ink pot. The planning and executing of a ball was absolutely fascinating to her and she was interested in learning more. This was something she had been born to do. Something her mother would have shown her, something she might have had to do regularly if her life had been different. If Lafayette Baptiste hadn’t stolen her childhood. Someday, she would make him pay. But today she had a ball to plan. She turned back to Lady Daphne. “Where were we?”

  “I daresay I’ve lost my train of thought,” Lady Daphne replied, blinking.

  Danielle read from the bottom of the list. “The musicians will be located on the far left and the dancing will be concentrated here.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right,” Lady Daphne replied with a wide smile, clapping her hands. “We must get the extra napkins out of storage and be sure Cook has everything she needs and—”

  “And we mustn’t forget to have the front steps scrubbed,” Danielle added.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I’ve already asked Mrs. Huckleberry to see to the flower arrangements,” Danielle said.

  Lady Daphne smiled at her. “Have you helped plan balls before? In your other positions?”

  “Not … precisely,” Danielle replied. It would have been so easy to say yes. Why hadn’t she just said yes?

  “Then how do you know so much about it?”

  “I … Oh, I shouldn’t bother you with such unimportant nonsense, my lady.”

  “Nonsense? I hardly think it’s nonsense, especially if you’re able to help me.”

  Danielle hesitated. Did she dare to tell Lady Daphne? The truth was she desperately wanted to tell this secret, had been dying to since the moment she’d begun working with Lady Daphne on the arrangements for the ball. It was so rare that a spy was able to safely tell a secret. The temptation was overwhelming. “Well,” she began, stepping closer to Lady Daphne and lowering her voice. “The truth is that my mother was part of the aristocracy. She taught me … a few things. Before she fell ill.”

  Any fears Danielle had about Lady Daphne’s reaction were quickly put to rest when the lady smiled brightly and said, “The English aristocracy?”

  Danielle nodded. “Yes.”

  “I had no idea. What is your mother’s name?”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Danielle replied. “My mother was disowned by her family for marrying my father, who was a poor French professor.”

  Lady Daphne’s face softened and she reached out to gingerly pat Danielle’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, dear. I understand completely. My family wasn’t particularly fond of Rafe until he quite unexpectedly became a viscount. We married, er, planned to marry regardless. Your mother had the right of it. One should only ever marry for love.”

  “I never had a coming-out party,” Danielle replied, trying to dispel the sad tone in her voice. She’d never been one to feel sorry for herself. Her life was the way it was and she had accepted it long ago. However, the unfairness of it all washed over her from time to time. It was irresistible to admit she might have been a part of this world had things not happened the way they had.

  “When did your mother get sick, dear?”

  “Many years ago.”

  “Did you live with your father after that?”

  “No, Father was … dead.”

  Lady Daphne’s hand flew to her throat. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right. It’s been … a lifetime.” She forced a smile to her lips.

  Lady Daphne twined her arm through Danielle’s and pulled her close. “I daresay, with our combined experience, we shall plan a magnificent ball.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Aye, there, Oakleaf, wot happened to yer eye?” a booming voice called out to Cade.

  Cade wore the common clothes of a dockworker, including a hat, white shirt, and coarse breeches. He’d traded in his boots from Hoby’s for a decidedly less costly pair. There was only one more thing to do to fit in in this environment—change his voice. He needed to get this over with quickly. Daphne’s ball was tonight and his sister-in-law wouldn’t be pleased if he arrived late or say … bleeding.

  “Why don’t ye sit down and ’ave a drink wit me, O’Conner, and I’ll tell ye the tale,” Cade answered. He pulled his tricorn down over his forehead. The London docks were a teeming rabbit warren of taverns, alleys, and streets. Overall, the place wasn’t large, however, and in these parts if someone saw him they might recognize him not only as Oakleaf but also as Eversby, Duhaime, or a variety of other names.

  Tommy O’Conner had been out to sea for more years than Cade had been alive. The man knew the comings and goings along the docks better than most. He knew when every single ship put into port and when it was planning to leave. More importantly, he had a couple of the wharf police in his pocket. O’Conner was a good man to know.

  “Someone didn’t like the look o’ ye, eh?” O’Conner pulled up a chair next to Cade’s table and straddled it.

  “Somethin’ like that.” Cade ordered a mug of ale from a young lady who leered at him with lust in her eyes.

  “Evenin’, guvna,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

  He was not interested. A vision of Danielle flashed through his mind. Which reminded him. He needed to get to business and leave this fine establishment. Alone. He’d promised Danielle a dance at midnight.

  “Do ye ’ave the information I seek?” He nearly barked at O’Conner.

  “So touchy tonight, is ye?”

  Cade rubbed the back of his neck and took a quaff of the ale the barmaid brought him. “Just … busy.”

  “I see that, Cap’n. Got a fancy ball ta attend?” The man nearly laughed himself into stitches.

  “Somethin’ like that.” Cade forced a smile.

  O’Conner fished in his dirty coat pocket and brought out a sealed letter that he promptly handed to Cade. “Yer information, Cap’n.”

  Cade took the letter, stuffed it into his inside coat pocket, downed the rest of the ale with a grimace, and wiped the back of his mouth. He stood and tossed a few coins on the table to pay for both his and O’Conner’s drinks. Then he pulled out another small but hefty bag of coins and threw it to O’Conner. “Your fee.”

  O’Conner caught the bag in one meaty hand and tested its weight. A slow smile spread across his weathered face. “A pleasure doin’ bus’ness wit ye as usual, Cap’n.” O’Conner’s raucous laughter followed Cade out the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Delilah, you know you’re not supposed to be down here.” Daphne shook her head at her cousin. The girl was sitting on a tufted ottoman in a corner of the ballroom, eating a tea cake. She wore her best pink gown with a wide pink bow on her head, and she swung her white stockinged feet in time to the music.

  It was half past eleven and the ball was busy and crowded. Daphne was relieved the party had been a success, despite her cousin’s sneaking about. She’d broken away from the large crowd in the ballroom to chastise Delilah whom she’d spotted in the corner. “You promised you’d stay upstairs and only peek down once in a while.”

  “I know, Cousin Daphne, but j’adore the music and j’adore the dancing and the beautiful gowns. I just couldn’t help myself. Not to mention there are tea cakes down here and nary a one upstairs.”

  Daphne put her hands on her hips. “Despite the plethora of tea cakes, you shouldn’t be here. I will send up a maid with some tea cakes for you.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be here?” Delilah asked. “J’adore a ball.” She took a large bite of tea cake.

  “Your debut isn’t for five more years.” Daphne tapped her slipper against the floor.

  Delilah finished chewing. Her subsequent sigh was long and exaggerated. “It might as
well be five more decades for as successful as it’s certain to be.”

  “Why do you say that?” Daphne asked, frowning.

  “Allow me to call attention to the fact that my bow is askew.” Delilah pointed at her head. “I cannot dance.” She pointed at her feet. “And I have an unfortunate jelly stain on my bodice which I was hoping no one would notice but now I must reveal its existence in order to prove my point.” She pointed at her bodice where, indeed, a dark red stain was visible.

  “And what is your point?” Daphne asked.

  “That I am a mess. I have no grace, no style, no bearing. Nor poise. I have absolutely no poise to speak of. And you’re constantly telling me my French needs work.”

  “Well, it does. But I have an idea. My new maid is French. Perhaps she can help you learn more while you’re here.”

  Delilah beamed at that. “Oh, j’adore that idea. Thank you very much, Cousin Daphne. I should quite like to meet your French maid.” Then she frowned. “But it doesn’t help with the poise nor the grace.”

  “Poise and grace? You think those things are important?” Daphne smiled down at her cousin.

  “Of course. Look at Miss Pembrooke.” Delilah nodded into the crowd where one of the Season’s most coveted young ladies stood holding a flute of champagne in an elegant, gloved hand. “I am not elegant,” Delilah said with a sigh. “And most of my gloves are stained.”

  “You have plenty of time to sort it out, Delilah. Don’t be so harsh with yourself.”

  Just then, Daphne’s friends Owen and Alexandra Monroe broke away from the crowd and came over to where Daphne and Delilah were talking. A young man was with them. He looked to be about seventeen, tall and straight-backed, completely at ease, if bored, in a ballroom. He was dark haired and blue eyed and ever so handsome.

  Daphne turned to greet her new guests. “Lady Alexandra! Lord Owen! So good to see you again.”

  “Thank you for having us, Lady Daphne,” Lady Alexandra said. “Have you met my brother, Lord Thomas?”

  “Ah yes, your brother, the Marquess of Huntfield.” Alexandra’s father was a duke and her younger brother the heir.