The Pirate's Secret Baby Read online

  "My life is my own. I will make my own decisions and my own choices once I am free of your control."

  "That's the sticking point, isn't it? You are under my control, and by extension, under my protection."

  "A situation which shall be remedied when we are in England and I am booking passage back to the islands."

  "So you insist, Miss Burke. Bear in mind that much can happen on a voyage across the Atlantic Ocean. Already your life has taken a different, and dare I say, more interesting turn than what awaited you on St. Thomas? You should be open to life's possibilities, that's all. You never know what the next day will bring."

  "As long as it brings me out of the grasp of pirates and their ilk, I will seize those opportunities, Captain St. Armand."

  "You're not being open-minded now, Miss Burke. You are not considering the advantages of spending more time in my company. And in Mattie's company too, of course."

  "I've given long thought to the advantages of your daughter's company, sir," she said sweetly. "I will miss Mattie. You, I will be glad to see the back of."

  "So you say. Good night, then. Tomorrow is another day."

  Chapter 9

  The following days were fair, but with winds convincing Lydia a substantial jacket of any design was fast becoming a necessity. She wrapped herself in her warmest shawl and was standing at the starboard rail with her arms clutched about her when a brisk voice said, "Miss Burke, put this on before you catch your death and are no use to me whatsoever."

  Captain St. Armand loomed behind her holding out a wool coat, a more practical looking garment than most of what she'd seen him wear. It was cobalt blue, a deep, rich shade, its gold buttons gleaming in the sunlight. The scent of cedar clinging to it made her breathe deep of the fresh smell. She suspected it was the captain's own winter gear, brought out of storage.

  "Here," he said, pulling the shawl off of her shoulders and before she could protest, putting the coat around her so she could get her arms in the sleeves. They were too long, of course, but she used the extra length to tuck her hands in, sighing at the warmth of the rich wool. He pulled the jacket closed and frowned down at her, his hands on the lapels, holding her in place. They were standing too close, there on the deck in the sunlight and the full view of the crew, but no one watched them. Was the crew used to their captain bringing women aboard? Or was it simply they'd come to accept her presence in their little wooden world, and didn't judge her by the same standards as the good people of the merchant class in the islands? As a governess she was always under scrutiny, for while the islanders might tolerate misbehavior amongst themselves they expected the upper servants to be above reproach, their behavior reflecting on their employers. Too often Lydia had to keep her opinions to herself, even when she heard the man of the house spouting total nonsense about the workings of Parliament or discussing the war with Napoleon, and later with the United States. They were all fine patriots on the surface, but every merchant she'd had dealings with was quite willing to trade with American and French privateers when the opportunity arose. Men like Robert St. Armand became rich during the war because there were outlets for their piratical activity, businessmen who cared only how their ledgers balanced at the end of the day.

  Maybe she too shouldn't be so quick to judge the pirate. After all, those merchants had paid her modest wages with the proceeds from their dealings with scoundrels of every stripe. Living with Nanette was different, since Nanette made no bones about being anything other than a loyal daughter of France in exile. She'd been more honest than the customers of the whorehouse who paid her in silver, but wouldn't acknowledge her on the street.

  "Why are you looking at me like that, Miss Burke?"

  "How am I looking at you, Captain?"

  "I'm not sure," he said, irritated. "You are looking at me--it's not how you usually look when you're preparing to scold me over something I've done, or not done, or should be doing."

  "Maybe I'm just grateful you're willing to give me your coat."

  He cleared his throat. "Yes, well, Sails says he'll have your gear finished soon."

  She stroked her hand down the sleeve of the coat she wore now, the wool soft and fine beneath her fingers, so different from the fabric purchased by those without funds to spend on golden buttons.

  There was a time when she had clothing like this and took it for granted, as much a part of her life as regular meals and a comfortable bed at night. Hard living had a way of making one appreciate what one had, not what one lacked. She'd gotten that much out of her experiences.

  What awaited her in England if she was discovered would make the hard life of a governess look like a walk in the park. No matter how much the captain's offer of protection lured her, she had to protect herself. Nothing could interfere with that, not Mattie, not Captain St. Armand, not people she hadn't thought about for many years.

  "Have you been to America, Captain?"

  "Yes. I have business associates in America, in New Orleans and Boston, and in Baltimore."

  "Which of those cities would you pick if you were settling there?"

  He cocked his head and looked at her. "You would go to the United States? That is unusual for a single woman. Most English women who settle there do so because of marriage."

  Lydia shrugged and began walking, and he fell into step alongside her, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing a wool jacket too, not as substantial as hers, and he'd pulled up the collar against the wind. She smiled to herself because the captain was also rigged out with a fully fastened white shirt, waistcoat and cravat. While the waistcoat was a rich marigold shade embroidered with primroses, the cravat was a sober and respectable cloth tied neatly. Colder climes seem to have put an end to the more flamboyant costumes of the islands.

  "I was led to understand in the islands that Americans place a premium on English governesses for their children. Since it is my occupation, and since I'm no longer in the islands, it makes sense for me to go where I have the best opportunities. Which of those cities would you recommend to me?"

  "None of them. New Orleans and Boston have miserable climates, and New Orleans is rife with disease. In Boston you're less prone to keel over dead from yellowjack, but the weather is disgusting. Frigid, wet winters and stiflingly humid summers. You wouldn't like it."

  "What about Baltimore?"

  "It does have a more temperate climate," he acknowledged grudgingly. "But the summers are still infested with insects and disease. For your health's sake you are better off in England."

  She stopped and looked at him. "Captain St. Armand, why are you so eager for me to be in England? Are you, yourself English? I suspected you might be French."

  "My life is not important in your consideration, ma'am. However, I have contacts--legitimate contacts--in England who could assist you in finding a position there."

  Lydia resumed walking. "With all due respect, I hardly think a reference from a notorious pirate will help me find employment."

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I could convince someone to take you on, Miss Burke. I can be most convincing."

  "Don't you mean, 'most threatening'?"

  He made a rude noise that would have earned Mattie a reprimand if she'd been caught doing that.

  "I cannot fathom why people keep accusing me of making threats. I never threaten. I make suggestions, I smile, I put forward my bona fides--it seems to work quite well for me."

  "Regardless, I have no intention of staying in England, as I have pointed out to you numerous times. If you won't assist my going to America, I will manage on my own."

  "Is that how you ended up in the islands? Managing on your own?"

  She walked beside him in silence as she thought. Offering pieces of the truth was better than obfuscating, less likely to trap her in a falsehood.

  "I had letters of recommendation to families in the islands who friends thought would be interested in hiring a governess. They were right, and I did have employment until I li
ved with Nanette and Mathilde."

  "I have to ask, how is it that you fell in with a woman of Nanette's background?"

  "You couldn't possibly be judging her, could you?"

  "Not at all," the pirate said. "Just curious."

  "I'd often seen Nanette and Mathilde in the marketplace, and was struck by Nanette's joie de vivre." Lydia smiled in remembrance. "It was like having a butterfly hovering around, something lovely to look at who made you happy. One morning, a year or so back, she was indisposed and I helped her to her lodgings. She'd begun to experience symptoms of the disease that would carry her off."

  "I should have been told," he said, frowning. "She should have contacted me."

  Lydia kept her lips pressed together. He did not need to hear comments on irresponsible men, not when he was so clearly feeling remorse at not being with the mother of his child when she needed him.

  "We talked, Nanette and I, and found each other's company so congenial that I was open-minded when she offered me employment with her. It was an opportune offer, as I was looking for another family to hire me. And when I spent time with Mathilde, well, I knew that was where I needed to be."

  He stopped and put his hand on her arm. "How can you leave Mathilde now?" he asked softly so the men wouldn't hear. "How can you leave after you've been with her through so much?"

  Lydia looked away from him. Damn him for making her feel it all over again. He did not deserve to see her cry, and she would not, not in front of him.

  "I knew, Captain, from the day I first saw her in the market, that Mathilde was not mine. She was Nanette's child, and yours. Nanette had faith if anything happened to her you would care for the child and it was her dying wish that Mathilde know her father. Now she is your responsibility, and I will go on with my life as I always knew I must."

  "You could stay."

  She turned back to him. "In what capacity, Captain? You have not explained to me what your plans are when you reach England."

  He was the one who looked away now. "My plans are not your concern."

  "On the contrary, your plans are very much my concern if you expect me to continue caring for Mathilde."

  Whatever the captain was going to say was drowned out by a call from the lookout.

  "A sail, Captain!"

  "Mattie, fetch my spyglass," he called out, moving away from Lydia, already moving toward the mast to climb for a better view.

  Mattie scampered up from below with the captain's glass clutched in her fist, her bearing showing her pride at being given this important task.

  St. Armand climbed and looked out at the ship following.

  "Is it a prize, Papa?"

  He came back down, frowning.

  "Mr. Fuller, we're being chased. I believe that's a frigate on our tail. Make preparations for when they catch up with us."

  "A frigate? You mean the navy?"

  He looked at Lydia as if only then recalling she was there, and his face lit up.

  "You can be useful to me, Miss Burke, you and Mattie. Take Mathilde below and dress her in her most girlish frock, something with plenty of furbelows and trim. Mathilde, you will gather one or two of your dolls--and your tea set, bring that up as well. Miss Burke, I want you to put on your most hideous governess outfit. Oh, and pin your hair tight under your ugly cap."

  "I cannot do that, Captain," Lydia said through her teeth. "Some malefactor stole into my cabin and purloined my last cap and my hairpins!"

  "Are you going to fight the navy, Papa?"

  "Now, why would we do that, Mathilde? The navy is our friend."

  "It is?" Mr. Fuller asked.

  "It will be when they see we are a peaceful merchant ship, Mr. Fuller. Take some men to the hold and do what needs to be done while I prepare the appropriate documents. The navy has far too much time on its hands now that the war is finished, and there's nothing they'd like more than to round up pirates. That is why we're going to be sure not to give them any reason to suspect us of piratical tendencies."

  "Aye, Captain," Fuller said, and ordered a team to go below with him and make preparations.

  He tapped his spyglass against his hand while he thought. "Mathilde, when the frigate catches us, we will be on our best behavior. If you are asked questions about pirates, just tell them I'm your papa, captain of the Prodigal Son."

  "We're not going to fly false colors, Papa?"

  "Captain St. Armand! It is wrong of you to involve Mathilde in your deception!"

  Both the child and her father looked at her in puzzlement.

  "There is no deception here, Miss Burke. Am I not Mathilde's papa? Is she not the captain's daughter? The alternative is for the navy to believe we are pirates and arrest us all. You also."

  "Me? I am not a pirate!"

  "Can you be sure the navy will believe that? After all, there is precedent for women pirates as you well know. I can't be certain they would believe you, and you might find the experience of being accused and questioned unpleasant."

  "But--" Lydia sputtered, then stopped. It was hard to argue with the man's logic.

  "That is why we are going to be ourselves, but the least threatening 'ourselves' we can be. Miss Mathilde St. Armand rather than Marauding Mattie, Miss Lydia Burke, governess and not a notorious pirate--"

  "What!"

  "How do I know for certain what you did before I met you? And as for me, I will be who I have ever been--Captain Robert St. Armand, merchant. Now, go below, ladies. Being ourselves means dressing appropriately."

  "Aye, Captain," Mattie said, and scooted below. St. Armand snapped his fingers.

  "Ugly cap and pins. Right. I will locate them and bring them to you in your cabin."

  "You will not get them back!"

  He leaned in, smiling. "Would you care to wager on that, little governess?"

  Instead, she turned on her heel and followed Mattie below.

  Chapter 10

  Lydia tugged her cap down another fraction of an inch. It felt odd to be wearing it again, which was strange because she'd worn them for so long in St. Martin. But wearing the cap was the right thing to do, even if Captain St. Armand treated it as a disguise, part of his japery to catch the Royal Navy off guard. He was speaking now with an earnest young naval officer looking around the ship's deck with a frown.

  "But of course all these guns are needed, Lieutenant Finch. Now that we're no longer traveling in convoy with the navy, we have to defend ourselves. There are still malefactors on the water looking for merchant ships to rob."

  "You refer to pirates, Captain?"

  "Naturally. If anything, those rascals have become bolder since the end of the war."

  "Yes, so we've heard," Lieutenant Finch said dryly, looking around at the Prodigal Son's crew. For their part they looked no more piratical than most sailors. Some of the men who normally festooned themselves with select pieces of booty were more sedately attired, taking their cue from the captain. He'd rigged out himself as sober as a schoolmaster in an unadorned blue coat, a waistcoat with a subdued brown stripe and dark trousers. He even had boots on today.

  A costume, she sneered to herself. Her attire was her own at least.

  Lieutenant Finch came around to where Lydia was perched and stopped, then recovered himself.

  "Your pardon, ma'am. I did not know this ship carried passengers."

  "Lieutenant Finch, may I present Miss Lydia Burke, and my daughter, Mathilde."

  Mathilde and Lydia rose and made their curtseys. Finch was still looking at Lydia as if trying to determine her place aboard the Prodigal. She had to admit that at the moment she looked about as little like a pirate as was possible, though Mattie may have trumped her. The child was decked out in a pink frock festooned with ruffles, her curly hair tamed by ribbons, a doll clutched under her arm and her thumb stuck in her mouth. The latter affectation was purely for dramatic effect, as Lydia well knew.

  They'd been seated, per the captain's orders, at a table where they set a pretend tea party with some o
f Mathilde's dolls arrayed around them as guests. Lydia had to admit it was a disarming sight and Mathilde had entered the planned deception with enthusiasm--too much enthusiasm in Lydia's opinion.

  For her own part, Lydia's hair was confined by pins and cap, her gray dress with its white collar and cuffs neatly buttoned and smoothed down. Captain St. Armand had taken a long look at her, sighed and said, "You'll do, Miss Burke, though it is a shame to hide your beauty under such drab feathers."

  "Your Spanish coin will not buy my good favor, Captain...or anything else."

  "Miss Burke, I never deal in false flattery. It is not necessary and if I did not know you better I would suspect you of fishing for compliments."

  Her appearance had deflected the lieutenant's interest as he squatted down on his heels and gave Mattie a smile that lit up his rather nondescript face. Captain St. Armand had nothing to fear if he was competing with the naval officer for dance partners, but the young man's freckled countenance was open and encouraging.

  "That is a pretty dolly you have there. What is her name?"

  Lydia held her breath since just last night that doll had been re-christened "Bloody Anne Bonny" in honor of Mattie's new favorite pirate, but today Mathilde just popped her thumb out of her mouth and shyly whispered, "Her name is Annie."

  "Annie, hmmm? I have a little sister named Annie. She likes playing with dollies also."

  There was such a look of longing on Lieutenant Finch's face that Lydia was prompted to say, "Has it been a long time since you've seen your sister, Lieutenant?"

  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."