“No one of any worth was going to offer for her,” James said in a fury. “No one. Do you know the men your son was considering as suitable matches to be rid of her? Doddering ancients and ambitious commoners.”
Germaine frowned. “No. I did not know of them. I can see—I should have—”
“James,” his mother said hurriedly. “I want to stay here. We both do, Amelia and I. Not as pirates—Richard gave all of that up. He is…” she looked down, pink staining her décolletage and cheeks “…a good man. I am happy for the first time in—well, a good while. And in any case, Amelia can’t possibly return to London with a baby and no husband. Even if the ton believes the stories we could make up, the truth will come out eventually.”
“What am I supposed to tell them then, Mother? You’ve given it all up for a ship’s life? Or should I tell everyone you died at sea without an explanation of how you got there?”
“Tell them we died at sea on a voyage to escape the grief and scandal: it’s the only way. By next season, a new scandal involving a different family will top the gossip. They will forget about us. We’ve taken on new names. No one here knows who we were.”
James couldn’t believe his ears. He wanted to scream and shake her and ask What about me? Was he simply to forget them too? All alone in that big house with only the servants to fill the empty rooms? Had she no thought at all to how he might fare if they’d actually died at sea? He willed his voice to calm, to convey the disappointment he could no longer conceal. “I know who you are. I know where you are. Asking me to forget is selfish and beyond anything anyone has ever asked of me.”
Germaine thumped his meaty fist on the table again. “Tell me about Daniella. How did she come to embroil you in her mess?”
“Did you not get any of the missives I sent ahead?”
“If I knew the extent of it, would I be taking a leisurely stroll through town, boy? How did you get her here?”
“We came by road some of the way, but actually, a man named Darius delivered us this morning.”
“Darius? I don’t understand. What was that cur doing anywhere near my daughter?”
Now he cared? “He did get my message and thought he was saving her.”
“From what?”
“Not what,” James explained. “Who. He thought he was saving her from me. I kidnapped her so I could trade mother and Amelia away from you, and Darius thought he was rescuing her.”
“Were you already married at that stage or not?”
“Not. That happened this morning as well.”
“My head hurts,” his mother complained, looking between James and Germaine. “This is all too much for one afternoon.”
James had to agree with her completely.
“I would like a moment alone with my daughter,” Germaine asked. “Please.”
“You can speak to her but I won’t let you take her with you. Not yet.”
“So you do want me to take her back with me?” he asked, green eyes only a shade lighter than Daniella’s flooding with concern.
James had fully expected a bloodthirsty pirate but in his place stood an old man with only his daughter’s best interests in mind. Every day must have been a battle for Germaine, to watch her amongst his crew. Eventually something would have gone wrong. If James were in his position, he would have offloaded Daniella after the first mutiny with Darius. A ship was no place for a woman.
And London was no place for her. She’d wither and die a little inside every day there. He could no more watch that happen than he could watch her walk away from him. She kept talking about not having choices and being driven to desperation but now she did. She could leave with her father, forget he’d ever come into her life. Or he could fight for her. Show her he could make her happy. He just needed a grand, crazy gesture to convince her.
“I’m not giving her to you or anyone else. Daniella is mine. I just need to convince her.” He just needed to persuade her he was the one man in her life who might be able to give her everything her heart wanted. Now that he’d realized he could.
“Excuse me,” he said and rose from the table, from his mother and her new and very unsuitable beau.
He took the stairs three at a time even though it hurt his entire face with the jolting. He had to talk to Daniella, to find out if the damage he’d done to her, hell the damage they’d all done to her, was irreparable. If he begged for her forgiveness, would she give it to him?
He burst into the room with no finesse at all, his chest full of words he wanted her to hear before she got it into her stubborn head to ignore him, but then he choked, coughed, swore. She was gone. The room was empty.
He was too late.
Chapter Thirty-One
For a woman who never cried, Daniella had given the practice some decent exercise. The skin of her face was tight and hot, her neck hurt, her eyes were scratchy and her whole body ached. She cursed her father and her brother and life itself for the rough ride given to her.
“Come now, lass, ’tis not the end of the world.”
“Piss off,” she retaliated. She was done with kindness, with propriety, with men, even if Patrick had helped her escape the inn. They rode the last miles to The Aurora even now. She tried not to wonder how her father and her husband were getting along.
“You know I can’t do that,” he called back over the jingle of their mounts’ harnesses.
“Fine. You helped me. What do you want in return?”
“When we get back to your ship, will you give
