The Pirate's Secret Baby (14 page)

His face cleared and he smiled at Lydia.

"It shows, does it? Yes, Miss Burke, I have not seen my little sister in over a year. I don't even know if she still plays with dolls, or if she remembers me at all."

"The lady is Mathilde's governess," Captain St. Armand said. "I am certain she has duties to attend to with the child. We should retire to my cabin so I can show you our papers, Lieutenant."

Lydia looked at him in surprise, her brows lifted. She was doing all that he'd asked of her and then some, so he had no call to be brusque.

"Can Lieutenant Finch stay for tea, Papa? We have biscuits, but they are pretend biscuits."

If he was dismayed at his budding actress's attempt to steal the scene he didn't show it, but only said, "Lieutenant Finch's captain will be expecting him to report back as soon as possible, poppet, so they can continue cruising."

"Your papa's correct, Mathilde," Finch said, tweaking the child's curls, which earned him a look from the poppet that had Lydia glad Mattie wasn't at knife practice. "My captain expects me back and we must do what our captains--and our papas--tell us to."

"Just so," St. Armand murmured.

"Goodbye, Lieutenant Finch," Mattie said, clutching Bloody Anne to her chest.

"I hope you have the opportunity to see your family soon, Lieutenant," Lydia said.

He gave her an intense look before smiling at her and saying, "I hope so also, Miss Burke."

The captain cleared his throat and Lieutenant Finch gave Mattie a small wave of his fingers and followed St. Armand below while his men stayed on deck, watching the crew. For their part the men went about their normal tasks, keeping an eye on the seamen from the
Epione
.

She and Mattie continued their tea party, which wasn't so different from other tea parties they'd enjoyed except that Mattie seemed primed to become Marauding Mattie should the need arise.

Turnbull and Nash paused to let the ladies know that they were still prepared to drink tea with them in exchange for lessons.

"Today would not be the best time for that, gentlemen," Lydia said. "We are all on edge and I doubt Mr. Fuller would release you from your duties."

"Not a chance," Nash said, looking at an
Epione
seaman standing at ease, but keeping a watchful eye on the ship. "We have to get this lot off and be safely away before Mr. Fuller will let any of us catch our breath."

To punctuate his statement the captain and Lieutenant Finch came up from below. St. Armand wore a relaxed smile, while Finch looked unhappy. His eyes rested on Lydia and she heard him say, "I need to speak with Miss Burke, Captain. If you'll excuse me?"

"I will accompany you."

"I'd rather you did not," Finch said, and while his voice was mild, his words made his boarding party come to alert stances. A ripple of tension ran through the
Prodigal's
crew, but St. Armand just said, "Of course, Lieutenant. My ship--and its passengers--are at your disposal."

Finch walked over to her and Lydia stood until he stopped before her and said, "May I speak with you? I won't take her far," he added for Mattie's benefit.

She carefully did not look at the captain, but inclined her head. "Of course, Lieutenant."

He motioned for her to step away from the tea set, then clasped his hands behind his back and said softly, "Miss Burke, I had the pleasure of examining the documents in Captain St. Armand's cabin. They are the neatest and most complete manifests I have ever seen."

He looked at her sidelong but she said nothing, so he continued, walking the deck with her by his side. "This is not my first voyage in these waters and one hears tales, tales of various ships and their captains, and which side of the law they sail on. When I see paperwork as pretty as that aboard this ship, it reminds me of those stories I have heard."

He stopped walking, and she did as well, looking up into his earnest face as he leaned in and said for her ears alone, "Are you on this vessel of your own will, Miss Burke--no, do not look over at the child, but answer my question, please. I can assure you no harm will come to you. This ship is well defended, but the navy is quite capable of handling one rogue pirate if it comes down to that."

Lydia's heart raced. She'd heard Finch say the
Epione
was bound for Jamaica, and it would be easy enough to return to the islands, or leave for America after the safe harbor of being rescued by the Royal Navy.

* * * *

What was that bastard saying to her? Robert couldn't read their lips from afar but he saw how the naval officer bent down to hear what the little governess had to say, how her face lifted up to his, but her stupid cap hid her expression from him. He was going to burn those rags as soon as he had them back in his possession, and he
would
have them back in his possession, if she didn't say something ridiculous, bringing hordes of sailors and marines attempting to board his vessel. That wouldn't happen, not while he had breath in his body.

Then his gaze fell on Mattie, who came next to Miss Burke and leaned against her side, thumb in her mouth, dolly clutched beneath her arm. The woman's head turned away from the officer, toward the child, and her hand rose to rest atop the girl's curls like a dove alighting on a slender branch.

The governess shook her head at something the lieutenant said, and Robert relaxed. He may not be able to read lips, but he was good at reading people, a skill taking him into many beds and out of many fights over the years. Miss Burke leaned away from the navy man now, holding Mattie closer to her side.

She wouldn't peach on them. She wouldn't do anything that might harm the child, even if it meant she had to stay aboard the
Prodigal
and continue on to England.

The lieutenant made his bow to Miss Burke and came back over to Captain St. Armand. Robert worked hard to keep a smile off his face. Today he wore his "sober merchant captain" expression, which did not include a smile. He'd practiced it for days like this.

Lieutenant Finch did not appear to be as susceptible to Robert's charms as most young ladies, and even a navy man or two, and put no effort into schooling his own expression.

"Everything
appears
to be in order, Captain."

Robert's inner devil, the one that over the years too often counseled actions with interesting consequences, prompted him to ask, "Did you expect otherwise, Lieutenant Finch?"

"Do not push me," Finch said softly. "You should be damned grateful your passage includes a lady and a little girl, for if there were not innocents aboard this hulk we might be having a very different discussion."

Robert generously let the "hulk" slur pass. He could afford to be generous.

"If you have no further business with us, we will set sail for England, Lieutenant."

Finch watched him for a few heartbeats longer, then turned on his heel to board his boat back to the
Epione
. The men watched it depart without jeering or cat-calling, as they too knew the value of acting prudently to stay out of the sights of the Royal Navy.

When the ships were a safe distance apart Robert told Mr. Fuller to give the men an extra ration of rum as a reward for their avoiding trouble, and the crew cheered their captain.

"And you, Marauding Mattie, get an extra portion of pudding, if your teacher approves. Your behavior today was everything I would expect from Captain St. Armand's daughter."

"What about Miss Burke, Papa? She was good today too, wasn't she?"

"Very good indeed," Robert said, smiling at the woman next to the child. She did not smile back. "Would you like extra pudding, Miss Burke?"

He had a thought then, heaven knows where it came from--probably from inside his breeches--a thought of him and Miss Burke sitting in his bed, naked, feeding each other bites of jam roly-poly, the sweet sliding off the spoon and into her mouth, or perhaps she'd use her fingers and then he could lick them clean.

And if he didn't stop thinking like that he was going to have a cockstand in front of a small and impressionable child.

"No, I do not want pudding, Captain St. Armand. If you're feeling grateful," she added quickly, "I want your assurance my cap will not go missing."

She was secure in her knowledge that she had the upper hand because there was no way he'd promise her in front of Mattie and then break his word by stealing the garments.

She was right, dammit, and his reaction showed, for her upturned lips blossomed into a full smile and it stopped him where he stood. When she turned that look upon him it made him think of her as she would look if he had the dressing of her, her skin aglow in satins and laces, amethysts around her neck making her malachite eyes look an even deeper green.

"Very well," he conceded. "You may keep your cap, Miss Burke, and no one will tamper with it aboard this ship. You have my word."

"My hairpins also!"

"You should have negotiated that sooner, Miss Burke. We're done here. Mr. Fuller!"

"Aye, Captain?" the older man said, trying not to grin at the governess's expression.

"Make sure the men know they are not to tamper with Miss Burke's cap. That's an order."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Mathilde, I am going below to freshen up. You may wish to change your clothing into something more suited to your lessons."

"Am I climbing today, Papa?"

"Yes, I will take you aloft, Mattie, and you will show me what you've learned from Mr. Norton. Then we'll have knife practice."

It wasn't necessary to add this, but he was fond of the sound of the governess's teeth grinding against each other. It meant she was paying attention to him. In a cheerful mood, he turned to go down to his own cabin to change into more comfortable attire.

"Captain St. Armand."

He stopped and turned. They were alone now, Mattie having headed below, Mr. Fuller back at his duties.

"Yes?"

She stepped even closer, so no one else could hear. "If you intend to foist false papers on the authorities in the future, you might be wise to make sure they pass muster."

"Those papers are completely satisfactory, Miss Burke."

"Too satisfactory. Lieutenant Finch expected something not quite so perfect, and I imagine others might also catch that. It is like having banknotes too crisp and unused."

"That is excellent advice, and most interesting, because only someone who has familiarity with forgers and their craft might know that."

She went quite still, like a doe sensing danger nearby. "You can take my advice or not, Captain. Lieutenant Finch noticed the condition of your papers, and I felt it worth mentioning to you. For Mattie's sake. If you were hauled off in chains, what would become of her?"

"Believe it or not, I have given the question of Mattie's future some consideration. We will discuss this again in England. Before you leave to return to the islands, or America or Timbuktu, or wherever you are off to after this voyage."

She continued to study him, then nodded. "That conversation would ease my mind before I leave, knowing provision is made for Mathilde's future. It is not an easy world for women who have to make their own way."

"As you know all too well?"

"Exactly right, Captain. If you will excuse me?"

She turned on her heel and went below, but he watched her go, considering everything she'd told him--or not told him. Someday he would uncover all of Miss Burke's secrets, he promised himself.

Later that night he was poring over the ship's papers, the ones he kept for the edification of the Royal Navy or other governmental bodies intent on interfering with his livelihood. He had to acknowledge that the little governess was correct. The papers were too perfect. He needed to fix them, and when he was next in London he would have a chat with his favorite forger, reminding Stockwell his artistic abilities were best kept for the paintings he forged. Documents required authenticity, not flourishes. He was confident Stockwell would take the message to heart because he enjoyed Robert's generous pay. He also enjoyed breathing.

* * * *

The clock was still a few minutes shy of midnight when the crying from Mattie's bunk woke Lydia. She threw back the covers and pulled on her wrapper as the cabin door was flung open. Captain St. Armand stood there, a naked blade in his hand.

"What is it? What is wrong with Mattie?"

Lydia assessed the situation and made a quick decision. "She is having a nightmare. Pick her up and hold her, Captain."

He reared back. "Me? She needs you. You are her governess!"

"She needs her father. You are the person she trusts now."

"I'm not ready," he said lamely.

Lydia said nothing to this but stepped back. He sheathed his knife and sat on the bed alongside the child, his hand on her shoulder.

"Mattie? Mattie? Wake up, poppet."

The child jerked awake, eyes blinking dazedly in the dim light entering the cabin from the passageway.

"Papa?"

She threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him.

"I was in prison, and the navy was going to hang you, and
Maman
was dead and I will never see her again." The child sobbed. "Don't leave me, Papa!" He held his child tightly in his arms and looked helplessly at Lydia over Mattie's head, but she was not about to give him assistance on this. Mattie was usually such a cheerful child one could forget it had been less than a year since her mother died. Lydia knew from her own life it was a pain that never completely fades.

St. Armand ran his hand down his daughter's sleep-tousled curls. "Mattie, I will never leave you!"

"You will leave me in England and go to sea and get yourself hanged!"

"Leave you in England? I would never go to sea without my best crewman, now would I? I will not sail without my Marauding Mattie by my side." He hugged her closer, rocking her in his arms. Lydia sat on her bunk, clutching her hands together as she watched the father soothe his child, and yearned for those safe times when she'd had someone who would hold her after a nightmare and assure her all would be well.