My Lord Beaumont

by Unknown

  There were no clues to her origins, though he'd hoped for just that. Nothing to explain the uncanny, uncomfortable feeling that he knew the girl. He was forced finally to fall back upon his original assumption, that he'd never actually met the girl at all. She was undoubtedly the by-blow of someone of his acquaintance and bore a striking resemblance to that individual which explained a familiarity that didn't actually exist.

  It irritated him that he could come no closer to the answer, or accept that theory and simply dismiss the matter from his mind. But the fact was that that alone didn't explain things satisfactorily.

  For, if he was acquainted with her father, he had not yet been able to place the resemblance despite the fact that he'd mentally reviewed every member of society that he could recall that had come within his sphere. Added to that was the fact that she gave a very good imitation of someone well acquainted with his habits and history, though he supposed the explanation she'd given him was plausible. But then that didn't explain why he was unable to shake the feeling that it was Danielle herself that he'd met, and not some vague resemblance to another that made her so disturbingly familiar to him.

  He dismissed the tantalizing thoughts and focused his attention upon her tale as she wound it to a close.

  "An' then after old Thornsby worked Daisy over an' lit into me, an' I had to whack him one with the poker, me an' Jimmy decided it wouldn't be none too healthy to stick around, so we took off," she finished in a rush, then took a deep, shuddering breath and glanced up at Adrian.

  His gray eyes were inscrutable, but a muscle tensed in his jaw. Danielle studied him for several moments, sensing in him both a touch of skepticism, which irritated her, and compassion, which made her uncomfortable. She allowed her lips to curl in a humorless smile. "Jiminey! Didn't like that one much, did you? I think I've got one you'll like better."

  She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully a minute then wrapped her arms around her knees and propped her chin atop them. "Actually, Jimmy and Daisy were my brother and sister," she began, using almost perfect diction now. "We were gentility, of course, but when our parents were drowned in a yachting accident, our guardian took over running our estates," she said with an air of mournful sadness, peering at him out of the corner of her lashes to gauge his reaction. A slight smile curved his lips, and she went on after a moment. "He was a wicked guardian, of course, the wicked duke." His smile disappeared, and she widened her eyes at him guilelessly, then chuckled. "Come to think on it, I believe he was a wicked Marquis," she said, then sighed dejectedly. "Alas! He coveted our estates and whisked us off to a foundling home, setting the story about that we'd died in an epidemic. We escaped after a few years though, and we've been living in grand style off the bounty of the city ever since, hoping someday to regain our rightful place."

  Adrian leaned forward and cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her face up as he studied her thoughtfully. "He was undoubtedly a fool," he murmured, and, at Danielle's questioning look, he smiled. "To lock the beautiful princess away in a foundling home when he could have taken her to wife. It seems to me that he lost the most valuable prize."

  Danielle blushed but recovered quickly, her eyes twinkling with merriment. "But the princess wouldn't have him, so there was nothing else he could do."

  Adrian released her chin and sat back, sipping his ale thoughtfully. Taking it as a dismissal, Danielle rose after a moment, collected the dinner tray, and headed for the galley. He was propped in his bunk with a book when she returned, and, after straightening the cabin, she curled up under the table for the sake of the safety it represented and rested her head on her arm. Studying him with a thoughtful frown, she wondered why it made her feel so queer when he touched her like he had and looked into her eyes just so. It had made her feel all fluttery in her stomach, as if she'd eaten something that didn't agree with her, only in a pleasant sort of way instead of ill. Like something really wonderful was about to happen.

  It worried her though. And him being so kind worried her too, since she couldn't figure any reason for it. She belonged to him after all. He didn't have to be kind.

  "There's another blanket in the chest at the foot of the bunk," he said without looking up.

  Danielle regarded him doubtfully a moment but finally decided he'd suggested it for her use, scooted out from under the table, and went to the chest to retrieve it, then turned towards her cubbyhole once more. His voice stopped her, and she turned to look at him questioningly.

  "How did you manage for so long on the streets?"

  She cocked her head to one side, studying him, and finally a mischievous smile dawned. "Well, now you've got me, your lordship. I whored, I did, just like you thought. Jimmy was me pimp. I was real particular, mind you. Nothing but the lords for me, Jimmy, I says. Ain't nobody else got the proper coins."

  His eyes narrowed, glittering with a touch of anger, and something else Danielle didn't quite like, but, after a moment, he seemed to dismiss it. "Douse the lamp and go to sleep, Danny," he said finally as he reached up and turned down the wick in the lamp beside his bunk.

  She was gone when he woke, but the can of shaving water that had been left thoughtfully for his use was still hot, and he knew she couldn't have been gone long. A breakfast tray sat upon the table, and he pulled on his dressing gown and moved towards it first, thinking as he sipped his tea that she was remarkably adept at anticipating his needs for someone who hadn't been trained in service. But then she was extremely skillful in emulating those around her, as he'd already seen, and doubtless she'd picked it up in the same way that she'd picked up the mannerisms of the gentility.

  He pondered her tale the night before for some time, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together to form a consistent picture, and found that there were yet too many pieces missing, or pieces that simply didn't fit at all. Dismissing it finally, he rose to shave and dress.

  Undoubtedly, Lavinia Johnson had set her maid to watch for him. No sooner had he exited the cabin than her door opened. She feigned a start of surprise. "Oh, Adrian!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "You did give me a turn! I thought for a moment I had stumbled upon one of those rough sailors," she said, surging forward and extending her hand with a coy smile as she peered up at him provocatively from beneath her lashes.

  He took it and brushed his lips across her knuckles, though one dark brow rose inquiringly, and a touch of both amusement and annoyance lurked in the depths of his gray eyes as he surveyed her elaborate toilet. For it was elaborate. Her toilet would've better befitted a ball than a ship-board walk.

  "Your beauty will surely rival the morning sun," he pronounced sardonically, wondering, as he offered his arm and they turned towards the companionway, what calamity had exorcised such an effect as to bring her from her bed before noon. A moment's thought produced the reflection that it likely arose from their disagreement concerning Danny and his coolness towards her of late. He should have been flattered, he supposed, to realize that he'd been responsible for such a miracle, or amused at the very least. However, he discovered that he was only vexed instead. It could stem only from possessiveness. And he disliked clinging women in the worst way.

  Lavinia blushed becomingly at the compliment. His irony escaped her since she wasn't in the habit of examining the nuances of such comments, and she congratulated herself on the success of her cunning maneuver. She wasn't best pleased, however, when they reached the main deck and Adrian halted abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he gazed out across the ship.

  She followed the direction of his gaze and frowned in her turn as she realized that his attention was fixed on the ragamuffin he'd taken up. She glanced back at Adrian, who remained rooted to the spot. A puzzled frown, tinged with indignation, marred her brow as she studied him, wondering at his interest in a boy who should be completely beneath his notice. It wasn't to be born, and her hand clenched involuntarily on his arm so that he glanced down at her. She pasted a bright smile on her lips. "Shall we stroll towards the back
of the ship?" she suggested. "It looks a trifle shadier back there, and the sun is beastly at this time of the morning."

  "The stern," Adrian corrected absently, having turned his gaze once more to Danny, who was seated companionably between two sailors, head bent in frowning concentration as she probed the intricacies of a seaman's knot on the length of rope she held.

  Lavinia gritted her teeth, retaining her smile with an effort. "Stern," she repeated obediently. "I never could understand why they felt the need to make up new names for everything on a ship. It seems it would be much simpler if they'd call them the same thing everyone else does."

  Adrian glanced down at her and smiled perfunctorily, resolutely turning his attention from Danielle as they picked their way between coils of rope and crates towards the stern.

  Either Danielle remained oblivious to the fact that her lord and master was above decks, or she was of the opinion that, having performed those tasks that occurred to her, her time was her own. In any case, she showed no disposition to dance attendance upon him.

  Adrian, who discovered that he had difficulty remaining equally oblivious, noted with considerable dissatisfaction that, of the sailors not presently occupied, several managed to loiter in Danielle's vicinity. From the outbreaks of boisterous laughter that rose frequently from the group, it was equally, annoyingly obvious that they found the company stimulating.

  If Adrian was dissatisfied, Lavinia was more so. Her disposition wasn't at its best at such an early hour, and it suffered considerably under Adrian's absentminded responses to even the most witty remarks she could think up.

  She wanted him, badly, and had seen her voyage with him to the colonies as a heaven sent opportunity. If it hadn't been for the fortunate circumstance of her being the sole female of his class aboard, even her considerable conceit wouldn't have led her to contemplate snaring such a rich matrimonial prize. Having conceived it, however, she couldn't now bring herself to relinquish it.

  Of course, Adrian had little personal wealth, being little more than comfortably well off. And he was, unfortunately, third in line in the succession to his father's honors. But that mattered little since he was the son of a duke. And one could always hope fate would step in and eliminate those who barred her now from being his duchess.

  It was unfortunate that she was older than him. But she felt certain it was of little consequence since it was a well known fact that Adrian held nothing but amused contempt for the empty-headed schoolroom misses society constantly threw at his head. He'd never been known, in fact, to show a preference for any females of his class other than mature ladies. Widows to be exact. And though those were generally somewhat younger than herself, and none had, to her knowledge, received the sort of attentions that led to matrimony, she couldn't help but think she was perfect for him, if only he could be brought to realize it before he reached the young bride who awaited him in the colonies.

  Unfortunately, she couldn't flatter herself - despite her sublime self-assurance and a self-centeredness that precluded her noticing the reactions of others to any great degree - that she was making progress. She did notice, however, that her possessiveness and jealousy irritated Adrian, and she did her best to curb it. But it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so when she knew that time was running out. And she was jealous of anyone or anything that distracted Adrian.

  Thus, although she would've been oblivious to Danny's existence under other circumstances, she now regarded the 'boy' Adrian had rescued with a bitterness that bordered on intense dislike. Though what he saw in the nasty creature to arouse his interest, she was at a loss to apprehend. She finally decided, dimly, that perhaps Adrian was afflicted with a touch of the philanthropy that had become the fashion since Lord Oglethorpe began crusading for prison reforms, and that, once she had him properly caught, she'd make that her first priority for change. It wouldn't do at all for him to become so involved in such things as to be forever devoting time, energy, and money (most particularly not money) to such ridiculous causes, when she could think of a much more appropriate use for it.

  The life that awaited her in the colonies, should she fail to snare him, didn't bear thinking on, and, unfortunately, her increasing desperation led her to display more and more the traits Adrian found least desirable.

  She was far from conceding defeat, however. And so, she did her best to hide her irritation at Adrian's preoccupation and invited him to dine with her that evening when he returned her to her cabin. "For you must know I've missed your company sorely of late," she added with a coy pout she hoped would conceal her very real irritation at that circumstance. "And afterwards perhaps we could put our heads together and think of something interesting to do to entertain ourselves."

  He regarded her with exasperation. She was the most singularly tenacious female he'd yet had the misfortune to embroil himself with. He'd been treating her with marked coolness the past week and more with no visible results. He wasn't so vain that it didn't occur to him that her persistence was due to the same boredom that so frequently plagued him. It was the bane of most of aristocracy's existence. He had a nose for danger, however, and could pinpoint with unerring accuracy those females bent on matrimony, and he was rather more inclined to view her persistence with the annoyance common to men who know they're being pursued and resent it.

  He would be forced, he saw now, to make his position a little more plain. And he resented being forced to that necessity only slightly less than he resented being pursued. "I'd be delighted, Madame," he responded politely, looking anything but. The sooner, he decided, that he dealt with the distasteful business, the more comfortable they would all be.

  Thus, he was not in a particularly agreeable frame of mind when Danielle presently tripped cheerfully into the cabin bearing his luncheon on a tray. He ignored her for several moments, but she seemed blithely oblivious of his censure and very pointed snub. Indeed, she was apparently intent on exiting as soon as she'd set out his meal. He dropped the pretense of disinterest and detained her as she turned towards the door once more.

  "I hesitate to disturb you, Danny, but if I might have a moment of your time?"

  She sat cross-legged on the floor at his knee and gazed up at him expectantly, her attitude and appearance so like that of a trusting child, her large brown eyes so full of youthful innocence, that for several moments he was so caught in the spell of those velvety depths that he couldn't think how to broach the subject uppermost in his mind. And, regardless of his earlier suspicions concerning her motives, he couldn't quite bring himself to suggest that her behavior had bordered on wanton flirtation for one who professed no desire to become more intimately acquainted with the sailors on board. He found, in fact, that he was loath even to suggest that she'd behaved unbecomingly forward with men whose coarse speech and manners prohibited intercourse with young women who professed the smallest claim to delicate sensibilities. And that she was liable to find herself well bedded, despite her wishes, if she continued in the same vein.

  In the first place, now that he considered it, that sort of remark sounded not only prudish but totally out of character. In the second, it sounded rather more like an accusation than a warning against possible danger. In the third, since it occurred to him to wonder why he was so out-done by such a prospect, he thought she might wonder about it also. He meant, of course, only to warn her away from possible harm, but, never one to delude himself, he knew that wasn't the only reason for his concern. He had not, in actuality, come up with that particular vein of reasoning until he'd brooded over it for some time. He'd simply arrived at the conclusion that he didn't like the idea of a close association between Danny and the sailors and decided later that that was the reason he hadn't liked it.

  Thus, instead of approaching the subject head on as he ordinarily would have, he asked a totally inane question and felt the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment creep into his cheeks. "Have you eaten?" he asked abruptly.

  Chapter Seven


  He wasn't surprised in the least, therefore, when Danny sent him a look that questioned his sanity.

  She cocked her head to one side, studying him curiously, but grinned after a moment. "I was about to. Thought I'd take my meal in the mess with Morgan and Nat and old Tom," she supplied, wondering at the question but quite willing to answer him.

  His dark brows snapped together. "I believe you'd be ill advised to do so," he said tersely.

  Her eyes widened. "Why shouldn't I?"

  He gave her an exasperated look but dismissed his first impulse, which was to forbid it outright. He had no desire to engage in a battle of wills with a girl who's disposition almost guaranteed that such a skirmish would become a major battle. He had no doubt that he would come out the victor if it came to a battle of wills. But as annoying as her spiritedness frequently was, he also found it highly entertaining and had no real desire to break it. And he knew his victory in such a battle would almost certainly do that. "They are, after all, some of the same men who were out for your blood the day you were discovered. And if you have no notion what they would have done to you had they caught you, I can assure you it wouldn't have been at all pleasant."

  She shrugged off-handedly. "That was then."

  "And?" he prompted, his irritation mounting.

  She shrugged again. "There ain't much point in dwellin' on what they might have done. They was only doin' what they was told to do anyway, an' they're friendly as can be now."

  His eyes narrowed. "In other words, you have an extremely forgiving nature?" he suggested sarcastically.

  She cocked her head to one side, considering, and finally grinned mischievously. "Well, I don't know as I'd say that. Thing is, there ain't nothin' to forgive, an' it's over now, an' I just don't see worryin' over it. No sense in cryin' over spilt milk, as Aggie used to say. If it's over, it's just as well to forget it and go on. Jiminey!" she chuckled ruefully. "If I was to get all excited every time some bloke chased me with blood in his eye, I'd be a tremblin' mess, I would. You don't think I got so quick on me feet from dancin', do you?" she finished with a husky chuckle.