The Pirate's Secret Baby (24 page)

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Authors: Darlene Marshall

BOOK: The Pirate's Secret Baby
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"Captain St. Armand, if the only way you can get female companionship is to purchase it or kidnap women, you should work on your technique."

He raised his brows at her, and as two young women passed them he offered them his "dashing pirate rogue" smile that had one nearly walking into a lamp post.

"My technique is satisfactory as ever, Miss Burke. Come, Mattie. If we're going out this evening we will need to get our knife practice in early."

"Do you anticipate having to fight your way out of supper?"

"Mattie, what did I teach you about socializing with strangers?"

"Be courteous to all you meet, but have a plan to kill them," the child said skipping along and holding his hand. "Can I get a puppy first?"

"Captain St. Armand! You cannot teach the child such awful things, especially now that we are back in England!"

Mattie was singing a chantey to herself and didn't overhear her father when he leaned down and whispered in Lydia's ear, "I love it when you use your stern governess voice on me, Miss Burke. It makes me feel like a naughty boy in need of discipline."

Provoking man! He only said these outrageous things to make her lose her temper, and too often he was successful. She should know better by now, because he was correct, she'd dealt with little boys before.

Ah, but Robert St. Armand was anything but a little boy, despite his behavior. He outshone all the other men on the street and he knew it. Even now, dressed more sedately than when aboard the
Prodigal Son
, he drew eyes with his lean grace, his dimpled smile. She felt like a crow alongside a peacock.

It was probably better this way. After all, she didn't want to draw attention, she kept telling herself that.

When they were at their house and Mattie went into the back garden with her father to practice knifeplay, Lydia took out the only dress she owned suitable for evening wear and frowned at it. It was the beige silk, so washed out and faded it made her nearly invisible when she wore it. She had an idea on how to make it more appropriate for an evening dining with the Murrays, and reached into her bag for the green ribbons she'd purchased from Mrs. Culver with the idea of using them on her bonnet.

* * * *

"What a pretty dress, Miss Burke!"

Mattie looked approvingly at Lydia's modified gown, the little critic every inch the daughter of a French
modiste
and a flamboyant pirate. Mattie wore the pink gown last seen aboard the
Prodigal Son
in their ruse with the navy, insisting on the pink because the puppies would like it. It was a close fit, showing even showing more wrist than when she'd worn it aboard ship. The child's new gowns wouldn't be arriving a minute too soon.

"Thank you, Mathilde. Now," Lydia said briskly, "I know I needn't remind you the lady and gentleman with whom we're dining this evening are
not
pirates, and you must be on your best behavior. Dining with adults is a privilege and I know you want to make your papa proud of you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Satisfied at least one member of the St. Armand family could be counted on for proper deportment, Lydia turned back to her dressing table, and fastened a small cameo set in gold around her neck, a present from her godmama when she was a girl. She'd hidden it when she realized the odds of her jewelry being reclaimed from the London pawn shops were slim.

It had been a long time since Lydia attended a supper as a guest and not a governess, and she too was pleased with the adjustments made to her old gown. The pomona green ribbon was wide enough to edge the sleeves and create a border at the newly lowered neckline. Another band of green encircled her beneath her breasts, the ends trailing down in a long line. She'd finished with a small garland of twisted ribbon entwined in a coronet of braids, a freshly trimmed fringe of hair around her face softening its lines. It might not be up to the standards of Mrs. Culver's shop or Mrs. Murray's London dressmakers, but it did well for an evening dining out with--friends? What was the relationship between the Murrays and St. Armand?

The two ladies held hands as they descended the stairs where Jenny the maid waited with their coats. St. Armand looked up from the papers he'd been reading and smiled at Mattie.

The expression on his face froze as he looked at Lydia, almost puzzled. When she reached the bottom of the stair he took her gloved hand in his and bowed over it, and there was no smirking or sarcasm in his gaze when he said, "You look lovely."

No effusive compliments, no flowery phrases, but the way the words were said sent a touch of color through her face and she wondered again who Robert St. Armand was when he wasn't pillaging shipping on the high seas--and what her life would have been had she encountered him when she was "young and airy."

"Too kind, Captain, but our escort this evening is also deserving of a compliment. Wouldn't you agree, Mattie?"

"I hoped you would wear your red coat with the gold braid," Mattie said repressively. "The puppies would like it, I am sure."

"Alas, Mattie, the puppies will have to take me as I am. I am guessing they are intelligent little beasts and will be able to smell my wonderfulness, even if they can't see it in my clothing."

Mattie thought about this seriously before she nodded. "You do look good, Papa."

He did look good, of course. His black evening clothes were superbly tailored and needed no gold braid to set them off. The white shirt against his tanned skin highlighted his masculine appeal while his overlong hair and the cabochon ruby in his earlobe gave the hint of raffish appeal one would expect from the notorious sea rover.

The journey to the Murrays house was not overlong, but they took the carriage hired for in-town use. When they arrived St. Armand pronounced himself surprised at the modest but well-kept property.

"Before she was Mrs. Murray, Miss Farnham was an heiress of note," he explained as he helped Mattie and Lydia down. "It makes me wonder if she was cut off for marrying a lowly surgeon," he said with satisfaction, but when he saw Lydia's face he amended his statement.

"It's not that I want to see Mrs. Murray suffer, or be estranged from her family, it's the idea of Murray triumphant that I cannot--it is complicated..." he trailed off finally as the door opened and they were ushered inside.

Their hostess was there to greet them, and seemed so genuinely pleased to have them as guests that Lydia couldn't help but warm to her.

"And look, here is Alexander with our biggest surprise yet!" She giggled. "James wasn't a surprise to us, after all I grew him, but he may be a surprise to you, Captain St. Armand."

Murray stepped into the room with a baby in his arms, the infant's red curls a brighter shade than his father's blend of russet and silver. The baby looked up at them sleepily, then yawned widely, stuck his finger in his mouth and put his head back on the sturdy shoulder supporting him. A white bichon trotted in at his heels, but after sniffing at their shoes he returned to his master's side.

"That is not a puppy, it's a baby," Mattie said disapprovingly.

"What a clever girl you are!" Daphne Murray said. "The puppies are in the scullery with their mother. When Prentice is finished with your wraps he will take you to the kitchen to meet them, if that meets with your approval, Miss Burke."

Lydia nodded and Mathilde did a fair job of repressing her excitement until the footman returned. The sleepy infant was handed to a nurse, Murray soberly greeting them while ignoring the damp patch of baby drool on his coat. He was dressed well enough, but looked slightly disheveled next to the pirate, who seemed well aware of the contrast they made.

They adjourned to a cozy parlor where a cheerful fire took the chill out of the room. Lydia was struck by how perfectly decorated the space was, just the right combination of luxury and comfort. A row of seashells sat atop the mantel, glowing in the firelight, and the soothing blues and grays of the room were highlighted by colorful touches here and there. Sherry was served and genteel conversation occurred, at least among the ladies.

"So, Murray, kill anyone lately?"

"Odd, I was about to ask you the same thing, St. Armand."

"You are both being silly," Daphne Murray scolded them. "I expect better behavior from you gentleman during supper. Captain St. Armand is a pirate, but you have good manners, most of the time, Alexander."

"One moment," St. Armand said, affronted. "I have excellent manners. Miss Burke will agree with that, won't you?"

All eyes turned to Lydia, and Murray had an eyebrow cocked and a sardonic expression on his face, while Mrs. Murray smiled encouragingly.

Lydia cleared her throat. "Captain St. Armand is capable of great courtesy and deportment. Mathilde could not ask for a more loving or caring father."

"You see, Alexander, I told you the captain wouldn't attack anyone tonight. He will be on his best behavior," Daphne Murray said, patting her husband on the arm. He looked skeptical, but St. Armand watched Lydia, and the look in his eyes surprised her. It was as if he had not expected her to come to his defense, or praise him in any fashion.

"Thank you," he said, with as much true sincerity as she'd ever heard from him. "Your good opinion of me as a father means a great deal to me."

"I only speak the truth, Captain. Sometimes your manners with others leave something to be desired, but with Mathilde you are always the father she needs."

"What of you, Miss Burke?" he leaned over and said for her ears alone. "What is it you need from me?"

Lydia could not answer that question, not here in front of other people, not now. Her life was twisting about like a kite in shifting winds, and she still did not know if she would soar, or if she would crash to the ground.

They moved into the dining room and Lydia was about to ask for Mathilde when Mattie rushed in and said, "The cook said if I had your permission, Papa and Miss Burke, I could eat in the kitchen and she said the delicious custard was made by you, Mrs. Murray, and if I stayed in the kitchen I could watch the puppies eat with their mama. Oh, they are so beautiful, Papa! They are like little white clouds and they're laughing and playing, please let me eat with them!"

Lydia looked at her hostess, who said, "If I were a little girl I would want to eat in the kitchen with puppies also. I have no objection, if Mattie has your permission."

Permission was granted, and with a swift thank-you the child ran back to her play, leaving the adults to their meal. It was probably better this way, Lydia thought. She did not know yet what the history was with the Murrays and Captain St. Armand, but she wasn't surprised there was a beautiful woman, and animosity from her husband, and St. Armand acting naughty. It probably was better Mattie not be there, in case they were forced to beat a hasty retreat at swordspoint.

"This is so much fun! I have not had supper with pirates in ages."

"Pirates, Mrs. Murray? I assure you, I am a merchant captain, nothing more," St. Armand said with a wink, and Daphne Murray giggled, and Murray frowned, and Lydia saw the evening moving in a disastrous direction if something wasn't done.

"I am almost afraid to ask, but how do you all know each other?"

Murray spoke up first. "Daphne and I were castaway and Captain St. Armand rescued us and brought us to England."

Lydia waited for more, but St. Armand just sat there, looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "I was surprised to see you in Liverpool, Murray. I was led to believe you'd open a surgery in London."

"We are here because Alexander and I are learning about my father's shipping, Captain. Someday I'll inherit it and we need to know more, so we are spending time working for my father."

"This is a temporary sojourn," Murray said, waving off a servant who offered him more wine. Lydia did not mind a touch more in her glass, as Mrs. Murray set an excellent table and managed her household well. She was dressed plainly, in a simple striped muslin the same blue as her stunning eyes, trimmed in modest pink rosettes with a matching satin bandeau in her golden curls. She wore no jewelry other than her wedding ring, and Lydia knew after seeing the fashionable outfit worn earlier that Daphne was being kind, so as to not embarrass her guest.

Captain St. Armand carried on a perfectly normal conversation over supper about shipping and the future of the industry as the men debated which markets would be expanding and what goods would be valued now that the wars were over. Murray solicited his wife's opinion, which seemed to surprise St. Armand, but Lydia had seen while Daphne Murray acted silly, she wasn't stupid. It was good her husband recognized this, because in Lydia's experience as a governess, oftentimes men failed to realize their wives could do more than pop out heirs.

They dined on poached turbot and a good English roast beef with pudding, fresh beans in a bechamel sauce, and Mrs. Murray's custard, which was indeed excellent. It was the style of English supper Lydia'd missed most in the islands, and the Murray's cook did it justice.

Rather than adjourn separately, the men to their port and the women to await them, they all trouped into the kitchen. The pups were in the scullery and Mattie sat amidst them on the floor as they frolicked about her looking like animated snowballs. Their mother watched them closely, but Daphne came over and hummed to her, scratching her behind her ear, and the dog relaxed. Coquette's coloring was more varied than Pompom's, as she sported dark tan ears, a pattern carried over onto some of the pups.

Most of them left Mattie to mock-fight amongst themselves, but one, the smallest of the litter, ran at Mattie, pounced on her gown, then jumped off. He hunkered down on his chest with his bottom in the air, tail wagging as he yipped in joyful play.

Mattie scooped the little clown up and covered him in kisses as he squirmed in her hands and tried to lick and bite at her chin. She looked up at them then, her blue eyes wide over the dog's head.

"Oh look, Papa! Look, Miss Burke! It is our puppy!"

Lydia leaned over and said in St. Armand's ear, "
I
am not going to tell her she can't have that puppy."

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