Scandalous Desires (Maiden Lane #3)(78)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Silence gasped, trying to smile and failing. “I love him, Temperance, and I’ve been trying to see how I can stop, but there doesn’t seem to be a way.”

Her elder sister sighed. “No, I don’t really think that love is something that one can control.”

“And it’s not like the love I thought I had with William,” Silence said, closing her eyes. “That was sweet and light—a girl’s fantasy of love. This… this is violent and emotional, and sometimes I think I don’t even like him. How can that be?” She looked at her sister. “How can I love him and dislike him at the same time?”

“I don’t know,” Temperance said. “But sometimes I feel the same way about Caire. Sometimes he says or does things that drive me to distraction. Yet I know always that I love him and that he loves me.” She bit her lip. “Does O’Connor love you?”

“I think…” Silence paused to pat at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I think he does, though he’s never said so. You don’t truly know him. He can be very gentle with Mary Darling and me. He showed me how to eat an artichoke, and he has a big ugly dog that adores him and follows him everywhere, and… and…”

Well, she certainly couldn’t tell her sister about Michael’s lovemaking! Silence blushed at the thought.

“He has been kind to Mary Darling?” Temperance asked slowly.

“Yes! So loving and kind, you would not credit it.”

“Then shouldn’t you have left Mary with him?”

“I thought of it,” Silence said quietly. “He is a good father. But he refuses to give up his pirating. What sort of life would that be for her?”

“Well, then,” Temperance said, “that settles it, doesn’t it? You did the right thing in taking her away.”

“Do you think so?” Silence asked.

“Yes.” Temperance smiled tenderly. “I know it feels like the end of the world now, but you’ll get over him, I know you will. And when you do, we’ll find a good man for you. One who loves you and can take care of you.”

Voices came from outside the hallway. Michael’s guard was saying something loud and angry.

Temperance sighed and stood. “I suppose your guardians are shooing away one of my afternoon visitors. I’d better go see who it is.”

Silence nodded absently. Her sister’s earlier words were kind, but they were useless. For while her head knew she had done the right thing in leaving Michael, her heart was not so sure. Her heart didn’t want a good man at all.

Her heart wanted a pirate.

MICK LOUNGED ON his throne, a near-empty bottle of brandy beside him, and watched as silver and gold coins fell from his fingers. There were shillings and guineas, but also coins from shores far distant from England. Coins with eagles stamped on them, coins with the heads of princes and kings, coins with symbols he didn’t recognize.

When he was a lad he’d found it fascinating that there were so many kinds of money in the world. Sailors often brought back souvenir coins from the countries they’d made port in, and Mick would find the coins as he hurriedly searched the ships he raided. He’d take them and later examine the coins, turning them over in his fingers, looking at the strange marks, the stylized profiles. And then he would place the coins in a carved ivory box he’d stolen from a ship’s captain.

The ivory box was open on Mick’s knee as he stirred the coins within. It might be a king’s ransom that he had in the box. He didn’t know since he’d never bothered counting the coins. He held a particularly large one up, as big across as the length of his thumb. Mary Darling would like it, he thought. She’d grab for it and all the other coins in his box like a greedy magpie.

But Mary Darling wasn’t here.

With a sudden movement, he swatted the ivory box off his knee. Coins flew, sliding across the marble floor and the box itself hit the tiles with a crack, breaking in half. Lad, who had been sleeping beside the throne, jumped up, his tail between his legs and ran to hide behind a statue of a Roman matron.

Pepper cleared his throat at the door behind the throne.

“Get the hell out, Pepper,” Mick said without heat. All he felt was a vast, terrible weariness.

He’d left Windward House a week ago. He couldn’t stand the place without Silence in it. Every room reminded him of her. He kept turning, thinking he’d seen her out of the corner of his eye. He’d been going mad, so he’d come here to his palace and commenced drinking. But no matter how drunk he got, he still dreamed of her tear-stained face every night. She’d left him, but she continued to haunt him, damn her.

“I would retreat, sir, as I did the other times you ordered me from this room,” Pepper said precisely, “but I feel I should tell you that your men are worried.”

Mick laid his head in his hand. “What the fuck do they have to be worried about?”

Pepper cleared his throat again. “They wish to know when you’ll go raiding again and if you’ll be returning to the dining room for supper in the near future.”

Mick felt a headache start in his right temple, dull and throbbing. “Tell them it’s none o’ their damned business when I want to raid and where I take me supper.”

“Ah,” Pepper said. He sounded nervous. Mick couldn’t remember Pepper ever sounding nervous. “Then might we discuss your various investments? The price of gold has tripled in the last five months. I thought if we were to sell some of your gold and reinvest the money in, say, jewels or silver plate, we would see a tidy profit, perhaps of—”

“Damn the money,” Mick muttered.

Pepper paused, cocking his head inquisitively. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said damn the money!” Mick roared, rising from his throne. “Fuck the gold! Bugger the silver plate, damn the jewels, the furs and silks, the china, the books, the spices and tea, and the furniture!”

“But… but…,” Pepper stuttered.

“Fuck all me money!” Mick bellowed. “It don’t bloody matter anymore!”

He kicked a barrel, tipping it over and sending cloves spilling across the floor. Lad whimpered from behind the Roman matron.

“Sir,” Pepper began.

The door to the throne room opened and Bob thrust his head around it, looking wary. “Letter.”

He ducked back, holding the paper out from behind the door.