Robert stared at the governess, as if he could hold her in place with his gaze alone.
"Let me come with you when you say farewell. It will be better if you are there when I meet her for the first time."
Miss Burke looked at him keenly and Robert fought the urge to step back. He had not backed down from a fight since--well, in a long time--and he was not about to be cowed by a drab, dusty governess.
Nonetheless, he fought hard not to fidget.
"That may be best."
She turned to leave, and Robert followed in her wake, the little food he'd eaten sitting like round shot in his stomach as he accompanied the governess outside to the detached kitchen. The few ladies up and about at this hour chirped out greetings in a variety of languages, French, English, Spanish and Dutch. St. Martin was tiny but a busy crossroads, and the ship traffic kept the women well employed and the house's owner comfortable.
"Perhaps Cornelia knows a family who could take her in."
He'd spoken to himself, but the governess rounded on her heel and glared at him.
"You would leave your daughter's care to a brothel keeper?"
"You do not know me, Miss Burke, and you do not know my associates. If I asked Cornelia to find the child..."
"Mathilde. Your daughter's name is Mathilde, Captain St. Armand."
"If I ask her to find Mathilde a suitable home, she will."
"Wait here," the woman commanded him.
Robert stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his boot tapping nervously at the flagstones. He heard voices within the kitchen, then she emerged, a child holding her hand.
Robert looked down at a miniature version of his mother.
Mathilde's black curls clustered about her head, she had eyes as deep a blue as the ocean surrounding the island, and a firm little chin with a dimple that would someday be a small cleft. Her skin was golden, a legacy from Nanette, but Miss Burke was correct. There was no doubt the child was his offspring.
"Greet your father, Mathilde," the woman murmured.
The child looked up at the governess, then curtsied prettily.
"Good morning, Captain St. Armand. Miss Burke says you are my papa. Is that so? Am I coming to live with you now?" the girl said, looking up at him curiously.
Robert's mouth opened, then closed. He squatted on his heels to bring himself down to her level. A glance at the governess showed he'd finally done something of which she approved.
"We must talk together about that, Mathilde."
He put his fingers out, brushing his knuckles against the edge of her face. The skin was so soft he feared his hand might bruise the child, even with a thistledown touch. He could see his mother's bones beneath the baby roundness of her cheek, the same bones that looked back from his shaving glass each morning.
"For now, is there anything you need? Are you hungry?"
"The cook gave me milk, and a roll, and I played with the new kittens. Would you like to see the kittens, Captain?"
"Perhaps later," he said, clearing his throat around the obstruction there. "And you may call me papa, if you wish."
"Do the other pirates call you Captain St. Armand? I want to be a pirate too!" the child said enthusiastically.
Robert rose to his feet and glared at the governess.
"Someone has been telling tales."
She pursed her mouth and looked off at the bougainvillea rioting around the back door to the main house.
"Nanette liked to entertain Mathilde with adventure tales. I'm sure she exaggerated."
Robert feared rather than exaggerate, Nanette had told the truth--at least as she knew it.
"Will we live aboard your ship, Papa? Do you have lots of guns and swords aboard ship?"
He looked down again at the bloodthirsty moppet. Her enthusiasm was a good sign, as he had no wish to deal with was a crying, whiny infant. He had no wish to deal with a child at all, but she was clearly his butter-stamp.
"I am leaving for England, Mathilde. Do you want to come with me, or would you like me to find you a kind family for you to live with here?"
"I want to live with my papa," she said firmly, sticking her chin out in a fashion that looked familiar to him. "I want to be a pirate."
"We will discuss your aspirations later. Stay here with the kittens while Miss Burke and I talk."
"You will not leave without saying goodbye, will you, Miss Burke?" Mathilde asked in a small voice, clinging now to the governess's skirts, some of her bravado diminished.
"I will come and see you before I leave so we may say goodbye properly."
The girl watched her for a long moment, then nodded. "That is a promise isn't it?"
"Yes, Mathilde, that is a promise. I will not leave without saying goodbye, and your father is here now to care for you. You are not alone."
The child relaxed her shoulders and turned to the kitchen and the attractions of the kittens without a glance back.
"Do you always do as you promise, Miss Burke?" he asked as they started for the house.
Her steps were sedate, steady, a drab gentlewoman to the core. Only the flash of her green eyes when she turned her head and looked at him gave a hint of the steel also at her core.
"To the best of my ability, yes, I always keep my promises, Captain. Children in particular need assurance that adults mean what they say. A child wants a foundation she can build upon, people who are dependable and responsible. You may not see signs of her distress, but like any child, Mathilde was devastated by the loss of her mother. She needs to know she can depend on the remaining adults in her life."
The look she gave him rather pointedly said she had her doubts about the person she gazed on now.
He escorted her back into the breakfast parlor, pausing to ask one of the girls to have fresh coffee and pastries sent. Miss Burke seated herself, her spine never touching the chair as she poured coffee for them both. Robert cradled the deep cup in his hand, inhaling the fragrance. People assumed he stayed at Madame Olifiers when he was in St. Martin for rather obvious reasons, but her coffee was almost as great an inducement as her talented staff.
He fortified himself now with the dark beverage and watched her add cream and sugar to hers, her movements graceful and sure.
"I suppose I should apologize for my remarks to you this morning, ma'am."
"You suppose you should? Is that what passes for an apology amongst pirates, Captain St. Armand?"
"Pirates do not apologize. They let their gun speak for them," he snapped. "See here, Miss Burke--I do not know what tales Nanette Lestrange told you about alleged piratical activity. All you need to know is that I am the captain and owner of The Prodigal Son, a merchantman.
He slouched back in his chair and crossed his booted foot over his knee.
"As for how I addressed you, this is, after all, an establishment where the women are employed in tasks other than governessing."
The color flagging Miss Burke's cheekbones showed she had not spent nearly as much time in these types of establishments as Robert had.
"Nanette instructed me to bring Mathilde here. She said Madame Olifiers would keep her safe until you returned, as this was your...domicile...when you are in St. Martin."
"Mathilde seems rather poised for a child her age."
"Do you know many youngsters?"
"I have had ship's boys not much older than my daughter, and I was once a child myself, so I do have some experience."
"She is a bright child, Captain. I was not only Nanette's friend, but she hired me to school Mathilde, particularly in English." She toyed with her coffee, then set it down. "She expected some day she would bring Mathilde to you, or at least make you aware of her, and that the girl might have a dowry from her father enabling her to make a good marriage. Mathilde is especially gifted in languages and mathematics, though I have no complaints about her grasp of reading or her deportment. It is in traditional female skills where she is less than outstanding, showing no patience for needlework, though she does
well on the pianoforte. Nanette hoped Mathilde would be able to take over her shop someday."
"My daughter will not work as a dressmaker."
"Even if she is not your legitimate offspring? You have no obligation to support her, after all."
He frowned at the woman sitting across from him. "Why are you not dressed with more style, if you were close to Nanette?" It was a rude comment, but he could not imagine Nanette Lestrange letting a sack like that out of her shop.
"I am about to start a new position, and the last thing the mistress of the house wishes is to see the governess dressed more fashionably than she is dressed," Miss Burke said dryly.
Naïve woman. The last thing the mistress of the house wishes is to see is her husband swiving the help in her bedchamber, but this bristly hedgehog posed little threat. Everything about her was colorless. Except for those eyes. One could look into those verdant eyes and see forest glades, emeralds, rivers sparkling in the sunlight. With proper outfitting, a touch of kohl, she could be made passable.
That, however, was not his problem.
"This other position as a governess--I will need someone to care for the child--"
"Mathilde."
"For Mathilde on the voyage. I will pay you double whatever this other family is paying if you accompany us to England."
"Back to England? I cannot return to England," she paled at the thought.
"Why not? I realize the climate there is atrocious, but they tell me there are warm and sunny days. At least one or two a year." He drummed his fingers on the table. "If you take the voyage with us I will pay for return passage to the Indies, if you desire."
Her fingers trembled as she set down her cup. Was she afraid of traveling on the water? That made no sense since she was in the islands and the only way to get about was to get on a boat.
"I cannot return to England," she said with finality. "I told Mrs. Milton I will be in Charlotte Amalie in the beginning of the month. I have already accepted money for my passage."
"You are not tempted by my offer to double your wages?"
"A foolish gesture," she said. While she didn't smile, her mouth lost some of its thin-lipped stiffness. "What if I told you I was earning twenty pounds a year?"
"I'd tell you that you should consider employment here with Madame Olifiers. Better wages, easier hours and you'd be off your feet." He ignored her gasp and swallowed his coffee, thinking fast.
"I will pay you one hundred pounds to work your passage across the Atlantic as Mathilde's governess, and then pay your passage back if you wish."
"That is a fortune for a few weeks of work! However, I gave my word, and will head to St. Thomas."
He looked at her, consideringly.
"Given my changed circumstances I will be returning to my vessel rather than stay here, Is there a way to contact you in town if I have any questions about Mathilde before we leave?"
She bit her lip, as if gauging whether to release the information to him. It left her lips reddened and he found himself looking at her mouth while she spoke. That small gesture sparked...something. It was likely only an aftereffect of the previous night's debauchery.
"I am boarding with the widow Dupre. You can leave a message for me."
"Are the child's belongings there?"
"No, because I expected to leave Mathilde here if you were not in residence. Madame has them. Nanette and I shared lodgings over the shop, and when she died I found a buyer for the property. The remaining money from Nanette's estate is also with Madame. Nanette trusted her, so I had no reason not to."
He waved his hand negligently.
"Keep the money. You earned it taking care of Nanette and Mathilde."
She shook her head.
"I cannot keep what does not belong to me, Captain St. Armand."
"You would make a poor pirate with that attitude."
Unlike Mathilde, she just sniffed at the idea of a pirate's life, then rose from the table and he stood also. "I will say goodbye to Mathilde now."
She hesitated, then straightened her back and clasped her hands at her waist.
"Mathilde is a good girl, Captain. Lively, intelligent, eager to learn new things. You are a fortunate man to have such a daughter, and I hope you will remember that. I will miss her," she added softly.
He'd never considered it, but caring for other people's children might be the closest a governess such as the plain Miss Burke would come to having children of her own.
"Are you certain I cannot convince you to come to England?"
"I am certain. I will not return to England."
"Then this is goodbye, Miss Burke." He stepped closer to her and noticed the pulse fluttering at her neck, just above the ugly gown. It seemed she was not as impervious to him as she wished to appear. He took her hand from where it was clasped at her waist and she released it into his hold with a small intake of breath, a tiny puff of nervousness. Never taking his eyes off of hers, he leaned down and at the last moment turned the slim hand over. She made a movement as if to tug it from his grasp, but it was half-hearted at best. He lowered his lips to her wrist where the pulse raced, and he smiled inwardly before placing a soft kiss there. If the tip of his tongue darted out and licked the sensitive skin it was surely an accident.
She snatched her hand back and cradled it as though it burned, starting at him through eyes gone large as jade teacups.
"Captain St. Armand!"
"Adieu, Miss Burke. Meeting you has been memorable."
He gave her a small bow, and she hurried out as Madame Olifiers walked in, carrying a sheaf of papers. She nodded at the younger woman as they passed.
"Cornelia, do you know where I can find a governess?"
"I believe one just came close to running me down, Robert."
"Miss Burke does not want to return to England." He sighed. "And I must take the child and return to the Prodigal."
She went to a cabinet, unlocking it and returning with a valise.
"These are the child's belongings and Nanette's funds."
Madame refreshed their coffee, then pushed over the papers.
"I suspected you'd be leaving us. Here is an accounting of your time in the house."
He took the list from her and couldn't help feeling warm with pride. His reputation was secured. And to his relief, there was no mention of a donkey.
"A night with the twins? I do not recall spending the night with Dawn and Dusk."
"There was also opium that night, and a great deal of rum. You do not get your money refunded for not remembering. I am considering reproducing that account in needlework and hanging it on the parlor wall. I doubt I'll ever see the like again."
She looked up at him with eyes gone serious.
"You will not return, will you, Robert?"
He wanted to reassure her nothing would keep him away from the islands, but he knew better. Changed circumstances--and the discovery of a child was only part of it--meant his time in paradise was coming to a swift end.
"I had a good run, Cornelia. Fair winds and loyal friends, my coffers enriched. I cannot complain. Now that the wars are finally ended it seems prudent to retire from this life and begin anew elsewhere."
"As you say, Robert, it is a different world than when you arrived here. Your belongings will be sent to the ship." She set her cup down and stood. "Fortunately, what I sell is always in demand. If it's not successful pirates coming here, then I can count on the merchants and planters to keep the house busy."
She took his hand in hers and he held it. He remembered when her hair did not have silver in it, her soft eyes unlined at the corners. Like Nanette, she'd brought comfort when he needed it. Sometimes it was only the opportunity to speak with a friend and unburden himself that brought him to Madame Olifiers's establishment, and that was more than enough.
"Goodbye, Cornelia," he leaned down and kissed her on her cheek.
She reached up and patted him on his own cheek.
"Goodbye, Robert. I wish you luck i
n all your future endeavors. Raising a daughter, you will need it," she finished dryly.
He left her there and walked out to the kitchen. Mathilde sat at the wooden table, peeling vegetables for the cook. There were tear tracks on her round cheeks, but he said nothing, and her face lit up at the sight of him. It had been eons since anyone had been so thrilled at the sight of Robert St. Armand, he thought ruefully.
"Look, Captain! This is a sharp knife I am using."
"Good," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "One's blades should always be sharp and ready for action."
Probably not the typical advice for a father to give his daughter, but it was true.
"Are you ready to go now, Mathilde?"
"Yes, Papa. Cook says I can have one of the kittens? May I take one? I will take good care of it."
"No, no cats," he said, more firmly than was needed because her lower lip began to quiver and he began to panic.
"We cannot have a cat because cats make me sneeze, Mathilde. However, when we are in England we will discuss your having a dog."
The lip stopped quivering and she fixed him with a look he'd seen on the faces of the shrewd ladies who sold baskets in the market.
"Is that a promise, Papa?"
"It is a promise we will discuss it in England."
"I will not forget," she swore.
"Neither will I, child. Shall we shake on it?"
She liked this idea, and stuck her hand out. He gave it a firm shake, then picked up her bag.
"Say goodbye, and thank you to the cook."
"Goodbye, Lucille. Thank you for letting me help."
A grin split the cook's wrinkled face, gleaming from the heat of the day and the cooking fires.
"Farewell, Mam'zelle Mathilde. You be good for your papa now."
Mathilde nodded vigorously.
"If I don't he might make me walk the plank!" she said with enthusiasm.
As they stepped out into the sunlight, Robert looked around, but the governess was gone.
The Pirate's Secret Baby Page 2
