Never Trust a Pirate

by Valerie Bowman

  “That’s right.” Alexandra smiled. “He’s on leave from Oxford and I insisted on his coming with us this evening.”

  The young man bowed formally to Daphne. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Daphne.”

  “I do hope you’re not too bored by a stuffy old ton ball, Lord Thomas.”

  “On the contrary,” he said smoothly. “I find it quite amusing. I’ve got a bet on how long it takes the middle button on Lord Hoppington’s waistcoat to burst and Lady Hammock’s turban will certainly tumble from her head before the night is through. That ought to be a sight.” There was a twinkle in his eye.

  At this, Delilah let out a delighted burst of laughter. She promptly clasped her inappropriately ungloved hand over her mouth.

  Daphne turned to her. There was no help for it. “Lord Thomas, may I introduce you to Lady Delilah Montebank? She shouldn’t be here as she’s yet to make her debut, but such rules don’t daunt her, I’m afraid. Allow me to apologize in advance for anything inappropriate she says.”

  Delilah promptly rolled her eyes at Daphne and gave Thomas a wide grin before patting the seat next to her. “Oh, Lord Thomas. I do believe we are going to be fast friends. For I, too, have been eyeing Lord Hoppington’s button and the precarious state of Lady Hammock’s turban. If you’ve any more such delightful things to say, do come sit by me.”

  Thomas grinned in return and promptly took a seat.

  “Do you like tea cake?” Delilah asked.

  “Who doesn’t?”

  Daphne was immediately convinced the two were destined to be fast friends. She turned back to Alex and Owen and shook her head. “She’s certain to be hideously inappropriate.”

  Alexandra waved a gloved hand in the air. “Thomas can be similarly inappropriate. It’s Mother’s despair that he spends more of his time gambling with stable grooms and racing his horses than preparing for the esteemed role of duke one day.”

  Daphne glanced at the two young people. They were already engaged in a happy conversation, talking and laughing. Daphne would no doubt get written up in the papers tomorrow for letting her scandalous cousin into the ballroom, but she had more important things to worry about. At least Lord Thomas seemed to be keeping Delilah preoccupied. She threaded her arms through both Alexandra’s and Owen’s and walked away with them.

  “There’s something I wanted to ask you both about.” She lowered her voice. “How well do either of you know my brother-in-law?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Danielle was peeking into the crowded ballroom, her backside sticking out into the corridor when Trevor jogged up to her.

  “A messenger brought this to the back door just now, miss. Said to deliver it to you personally as soon as possible,” the footman said.

  Danielle jumped. Then her heart dropped into her belly. The door to the ballroom closed and she was left standing in the darkened corridor, the strains of the music still floating in the air. Trevor had hurried away as quickly as he’d come. He was as busy as the rest of the staff ensuring the party was a success. It had been kind of him to take a moment to find her.

  “Oh, God. Please don’t let it be Mere,” she whispered to herself as her trembling hands ripped open the seal.

  She unfolded the note and breathed a sigh of relief. It was from Grimaldi. And he … She continued to read, holding her breath again. He wanted her to pack her bags and meet him three streets over at midnight. Good God. That wasn’t much time. There were a few more details, not many, but clearly she was meant to abandon her pretense of being Lady Daphne’s maid. Immediately.

  The momentary relief Danielle felt at realizing the note wasn’t about her mother’s health was quickly replaced with something else. Something foreign. Something that felt like … regret. She pressed the note to her chest and glanced around the corridor. It was all over? So soon? It seemed she’d only just arrived here to this happy household. She didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to never see Mrs. Huckleberry again. Didn’t want to lose Lady Daphne’s company. Didn’t want to stop her talks with Mary. And … Cade. That was the worst part. She would miss her dance at midnight with Cade.

  * * *

  Cade waited in the empty library. It was nearly midnight. Where was Danielle? Had she decided the dance was pointless? Had she convinced herself he’d been jesting? He paced around. He would wait. She’d begun to mean something to him. Their talks. The questions she’d asked. They’d felt real, true. And that kiss in the coach. That had been unbelievable. It had been unfortunate that Amanda had arrived shortly after. He’d seen the look of hurt and accusation on Danielle’s face when she’d realized Amanda was more than a casual acquaintance. After he’d dispatched the woman to hurry back to Danielle’s side, he’d been elated when she’d allowed him to purchase the perfume. He’d never felt that before, that desire to so please a woman, well, not outside of bed. Not since … his mother.

  He’d actually admitted to Danielle that he was frustrated with his mother. That was something else that was surprising. He’d told Danielle more in the short time he’d known her than he’d ever told anyone. And he wasn’t even sleeping with her. His mother had been the reason he’d left. He hadn’t been able to stand watching her cower in fear of her husband any longer. He was tired of trying to talk her into leaving his father. Tired of trying to fight off a man who was twice as big as he was every time he laid into her. Finally, he’d left. And left Rafe to deal with it. Alone. It was the worst thing he’d ever done and for a man who’d stolen, lied, and fought countless people, that was saying something. Coming back to London had been his one chance to do right by his brother. He would if it was the last thing he did.

  He hadn’t expected to meet Danielle, however. Danielle had made him feel things he hadn’t felt … ever. A part of him wanted to run, to leave London, to never look back. It was what he did best, after all. Another part of him wanted to stay, to lay down roots, to kiss Danielle again. To dance with her.

  He paced over to the window and looked out into the darkened gardens. He glanced at the clock again. Damn it. Danielle wasn’t coming and he was a fool to wait for her. He strode over to the desk, jerked open the drawer, and pulled out a sheet of paper. He fumbled in the side drawer for a quill and ink pot. He scribbled off a note and folded it. Then he headed for the door. He would go up the servants’ staircase and leave the note on her pillow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  He’d promised her a dance at midnight. Just like a fairy tale. The idea of missing it tugged at her heart, but Danielle couldn’t indulge in such foolishness. Not now that she knew what her mission was. Baptiste’s ship was sailing tonight. Whatever Grimaldi suspected of Cade was not more important than trailing Baptiste. That was what they’d been waiting for.

  She had to stow away aboard a ship called The Elenor, which would be following Lafayette’s ship. She must once again dress as a cabin boy. No doubt the former cabin boy had recently resigned. Knowing Grimaldi, that had been no coincidence. More likely he’d paid off the young man. Grimaldi didn’t take risks. But Danielle was about to. She was about to take a big one. She would have to pretend to be someone she was not with a lot of strangers, convince them, and follow Baptiste to his destination. She must leave immediately. She had no time for fairy tales.

  She hurried up to her room, her feet nearly flying over the stairs. There wasn’t much to pack and she’d be taking less on the ship as Cross. But for now, she would have to take it all with her so Mrs. Huckleberry and Lady Daphne weren’t burdened with her things.

  A pang of regret throbbed in Danielle’s chest. She’d miss these people. Missing people other than her family was completely foreign to her. She’d missed her father desperately, but she no longer felt it as acutely as she once had. She’d missed her mother, too, but she’d never had friends, people whom she actually liked and who she believed liked her in return.

  She would miss her talks with Mary and the outrageous things Mrs. Huckleberry said. She’d miss Lady Daphne, too. The w
oman had been so kind and helpful, treating her with nothing but respect. An unfamiliar sensation tugged at Danielle’s chest. Regret. Another foreign emotion. Regret wasn’t something she indulged in. It was too messy, too complicated, too rooted in the past and Danielle strove to live for the moment.

  She would miss Cade, too, if she were honest, but she didn’t have time to think about that. There would be time for memories later. This moment was all she was ever guaranteed. But she would feel regret. Regret that she couldn’t say good-bye to Mary and Mrs. Huckleberry. Regret that she couldn’t give Lady Daphne more notice, that she would be leaving her without a lady’s maid so suddenly.

  She was allowed to leave a note, Grimaldi had informed her, as long as it revealed no details. She’d hurried to her writing desk and scribbled on a piece of paper. I have to leave. I am sorry. Danielle. She wrote two more notes. One for Cade and one for her mother.

  She knew Grimaldi allowed this only because he didn’t want them to look for her. Such a search would only end in failure or worse—disaster. She set the note on the center of the pillow that rested atop her neatly made bed. She shoved her two other gowns and all her other belongings including her hair ribbons, stockings, a packet of hair pins, the vial of her grandmere’s lavender perfume, and her new orchid perfume into her worn leather valise. Choking back something that felt suspiciously like tears, Danielle took one last look at the small room that had been hers for such a short time. That’s how everything was in her life. Short. Temporary. No roots. No connections. It was easier that way.

  She eyed the note she’d written for Cade. On her way out, she would sneak across the hall from Lady Daphne’s room and slip it onto his pillow. For some unknown reason she felt as if she owed it to him to say good-bye.

  She took a deep breath and spun around to leave, Cade’s note in her hand. The second she opened the door, she gasped and the valise dropped from her numb fingers to sit lopsided next to her foot. Cade stood in the doorway, filling it with his presence. So tall and broad-shouldered, her heart leaped in her chest. “Cade,” she whispered.

  His hand hung arrested in midair. He had been about to knock. He pulled his fist behind his back and his brow arched sardonically. His eyes took in her pelisse and the valise at her feet. Then they studied her face. “Going somewhere?”

  She swallowed hard, crumpling the note in her hand. “I—Why are you here? How did you know where my room—”

  “I know a great many things,” he said. “As to why I’m here, you owe me a dance.”

  “I…” She bit her lip. “I thought you were jesting about that,” she admitted hesitantly.

  “Jesting?” He braced an arm against the door frame. “Did you find the idea of us dancing to be amusing?”

  The word lodged in her throat, a lump of regret before she forced it out. “No.”

  “Neither did I. I was waiting for you in the library, but it seems I’ve come at an inopportune time. You’re leaving?” He glanced at the valise once again and back at her.

  She might as well tell him. He’d find out soon enough. The note burned in her hand. “I’m … I’m … Yes.” She nodded. “I am going, but I’m not at liberty to discuss where.”

  He narrowed his eyes on her. “Sweetheart, we’re all at liberty to discuss our whereabouts. You simply mean you do not want to tell me.”

  She’d learned long ago that the best way to distract someone from a question she didn’t want to answer was to ask a question of her own. “Where have you been tonight? Out with Miss Jones?”

  His grin dissolved. “No. I made it clear to Miss Jones that our acquaintance was at an end.”

  Danielle crossed her arms over her chest. “Acquaintance? Is that what you call it?”

  “She doesn’t compare to you, Danielle,” he said softly, a boyish look on his handsome face.

  That stopped her. She shouldn’t have asked him about it. She sounded like a jealous fishwife. Now he’d gone and said one of the loveliest things she’d ever heard. He’d actually rendered her speechless.

  “You changed the subject,” he continued. “I asked you where you’re off to.”

  She rubbed the note still clutched in her hand. “It wouldn’t matter if I told you. You wouldn’t believe me.”

  “So little faith in me?”

  “It would sound quite fantastic.”

  “Try.” He leaned against the door frame, blocking her way.

  She closed her eyes. “Please don’t ask me to.”

  “Very well. A woman with secrets. I understand.”

  She nearly sighed with relief. She opened her eyes, surprised to feel them wet with unshed tears.

  He stood up straight and held out his arms. “Do you have time for a dance?”

  That caught her entirely off guard as well. Did she have time for a dance? Almost as if it had read her mind, a clock somewhere within the house began to chime the midnight hour. She and Cade stood stock-still, staring at each other, his hands in the air, reaching for her in silent invitation for a dance. Once the chimes finished, she whispered, “There is no music.”

  “Of course there is.” He dropped his arms and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. In three long strides, he’d crossed to the window and slid it open. The musicians played at the back of the ballroom near the French doors leading out to the patio. A lovely melody floated up through the summer air to filter prettily into Danielle’s fourth-floor bedchamber. It was a waltz.

  Cade turned back to face her, his arms outstretched again.

  Danielle nearly choked on the lump in her throat this time. “You don’t have to do this.” Along with the music, the breeze carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine. That, combined with the melody and the darkness of the room with only a single candle flickering on the bedside table, made the entire scene quite … romantique.

  “Don’t have to do what?” Cade’s tone was unreadable.

  She glanced down at her slippers. “Dance with a maid?” She hated how vulnerable her voice sounded. How small. How … lonely.

  He glanced over both shoulders. “I don’t see a maid here.”

  “No?” Her reply was faint.

  “I see only a beautiful woman with whom I desperately want to dance.”

  Beautiful? Her? She was too thin, too straight, too short, too flat-chested, too—well, too anything to be called beautiful. She glanced over both of her own shoulders. “Where?” She did her best to hide her smile. She passed by the writing desk and laid the crumpled note on top. Cade’s eyes missed nothing. She could tell he’d seen it. That and the other note resting on the pillow. He pretended not to notice it. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and said, “Here.”

  “I don’t how know to dance,” she whispered into his starch-scented shirtfront.

  “I’m not particularly adroit at it myself, but I’ll teach you.” His voice was so calm, and smooth, and reassuring. Danielle sighed. It nearly made her forget for a moment. Forget that … She didn’t have time for this. She shouldn’t be indulging in such nonsense when she had a job to do. Grimaldi was waiting at their designated meeting location, three streets away in a hackney coach. He’d be checking his timepiece and cursing her.

  She was being foolish. She was being selfish. She was being … a girl. By God, she’d had precious few moments when she could enjoy being a girl. She’d had precious few moments spent in the company of a handsome man who wanted her the way a man wanted a woman. Cade had looked at her that way since the beginning. Never looked at her any other way.

  She was about to have to pull on breeches, wear a cap, and spend days, if not weeks, aboard a cramped ship with no French soap for bathing. No bathtub for bathing! She was about to spend time itching in places she rarely contemplated. She would never have a satin gown. Would never have a coming-out party or be pursued by eligible gentlemen. She would never own delicate kid gloves or carry a reticule full of dainty things like a vial of perfume and a handkerchief with roses embroidered near her initia
ls. None of that was in her future. But like the fairy tales, she did have this one moment where she could pretend. Pretend to be a stunningly beautiful lady, pretend to be the belle of the ball. In this one moment, she could dance with a handsome gentleman. Perhaps Cade wasn’t precisely a gentleman. He’d been to gaol. He had secrets. But she was no lady. And she had secrets, too. They made a good match.

  She would take her moment. Grimaldi could wait.

  She looked up into Cade’s blue eyes and smiled at him. She lived in the moment and in this particular moment she was going to … dance. “Yes, Mr. Cavendish. I’ll dance with you.”

  All of the servants were busy attending to the ball, which made it a perfect time for Danielle to escape. Now was also the perfect time to participate in a clandestine dance with an unmarried man in her bedchamber. She placed her small, cold hands in Cade’s large, warm ones.

  The smile he gave her turned her belly to jam. His fingers closed around her hands and the warmth and strength there reassured her. “Wait.” She stepped back, unhooked the clasps on her pelisse and shrugged it off both shoulders. She tossed it on the bed, attempting to cover the note sitting on the pillow. If Cade noticed, he didn’t react. She turned back to him and offered her hands again.

  “It’s a three-step process,” he explained, claiming her hands again and pulling her indecently close. She stared into his blindingly white cravat, too overcome with emotion to look him in the eye. It was more than just the dancing. No one had ever treated her with such reverence. No one had ever taken the time to look at her. Not carefully. Not deeply. Not as if he was studying her the way Cade always seemed to be. Few things escaped his notice. She already knew that about him. Was it her imagination or was he breathing in the scent of her hair? She dared a glance up to see him inhale, his eyes closed. “Orchids,” he said, in a low, deep voice.

  “Pardon?”

  “You smell like the orchids that grow out of the rock formation of the island of Elba.”