“You need to be gentler with the miss,” a female voice admonished from across the small space as the carriage lurched into motion.
“She could have climbed in herself,” Trelissick pointed out with a shrug.
Once Daniella could see again she threw a glare at the marquess, but he was busy looking out the window at the passing buildings beginning to be lit by the rising sun. She guessed it to be somewhere around six in the morning. Sitting across from her was Mrs McDougal. Some more conciliation could only help her cause.
“Thank you for thinking to bring me a chaperone. It isn’t necessary, but it is a kindness.”
This time he did turn his gaze to her but it was too dark for her to read his eyes. “Mrs McDougal is here solely to ensure I don’t have to marry you if we should be seen by members of the upper echelons.”
She drew in an outraged breath. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I am not the marrying type.”
Mrs McDougal huffed but obviously knew better than to speak for her master.
“You’re never going to marry?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Probably not.”
“What are you going to do for the rest of your life?”
“Now that my father has retired, I plan to take charge of The Aurora and sail the seas. I won’t need a husband to see that happen.”
“Your father may have objections to that.”
This time it was her turn to shrug. “He’ll come around to my way of thinking.”
“You do know you don’t rule the world, don’t you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“In the month I’ve been watching you, you haven’t taken a care for anyone else’s welfare or social standing at all. Your behaviour reflects poorly on your brother, indeed on everyone you associate with. There are others to consider when you sell your virginity in a warehouse on the docks.”
She gulped. She stuttered. Her cheeks warmed. “You don’t understand.”
“Oh, there you are wrong. I understand you think you know better than everyone else. I understand you value your reputation with no more than a passing thought. I understand you have been indulged for far too long. It’s little wonder your father dropped you off and then staged his own death to be rid of you.”
*
James should have stopped talking. He should have closed his eyes and pretended to sleep until their first stop. But something in him had snapped and he couldn’t patch it up. How the hell was he to have predicted what would happen when faced with the smooth expanse of her back emerging from her shift? She was his hostage—at best his collaborator—not his mistress.
In the four weeks he’d watched her, he hadn’t once looked at her as anything but a means to rescue his mother and sister. Why now, after kidnapping the girl, did his desires have to awaken? He shuddered. The easiest way to lose all he held dear was to think of Daniella Germaine as anything but a hostage. The next was to make her furious. He watched as she drew herself upright on the seat, her back straight and her pert little chin in the air.
“My father,” she spat, “did not wish to be rid of me. He wishes for me a better life.”
James rolled his eyes—anything to lift them from where her chest rose but the dress did not. “So life on a pirate ship isn’t as glamorous as one is led to believe?”
“Privateer ship,” she corrected, her passion and fire only adding to her allure.
“Oh yes, I apologize for not making the distinction.” A snort from his left and he turned his raised brow on Mrs McDougal, who fought laughter with an impish grin.
“There is a difference, you know.”
“I know the difference but I wonder if you do? In the history of boats on the sea quite a few have claimed to be privateers but most were nothing but pirates with special letters from this king or that. Did your father have any such letters?”
Daniella nodded in triumph. “He did.”
“From whom?”
“The King of Spain.”
James shook his head and made a tsk tsk sound. “He hands those things out like sweets so he can expand his coffers with ill-got gains. I’ll tell you if the English were to capture your ship, or even the Americans, that piece of paper would be burned along with the rest of her.”
Her look changed from triumph to fury again and she crossed her arms in defiance.
James closed his eyes and rested his head against the squabs. For the first time in his life he wished his sister, Amelia, was rounder. At least then her dress would have fit Daniella instead of squashing those breasts inwards and upwards. He made a mental note to retrieve a pelisse or coat from the luggage at the first stop. He made another to ensure his sister wore a fichu in all of her gowns in the future.
Daniella didn’t argue with him anymore as the coach rattled its way through the streets of London heading north. The only sound came from Mrs McDougal’s knitting needles ticking as she worked on what loosely resembled a scarf.
The last twelve hours had been such a drain on his nerves and his temper. He hoped the weather stayed clear and they made good time so he could be rid of the troublesome chit all the sooner. How could any young lady think it a good idea to sell her innocence, even if the sale were staged? There were shameless members of the demimonde who wouldn’t behave as rashly as Miss Germaine. When he got back to London, he would seek out Pendleton and box the pup’s ears for his encouragement of her scheme.
If he
