Silence bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “Fine. I’m sorry to have taken over your home.”
“Don’t be silly,” Temperance said.
The maid returned with a tray of tea and Temperance waved for her to put it on a low table in front of the settee.
“Thank you, Perkins,” Temperance said as she sat on the settee beside Silence. She waited for the maid to leave before turning to her sister. “I take it that you’re not safe yet.”
Silence grimaced. “No. Not while the Vicar is still alive.”
“Which brings me to the subject of how you left Caire’s country estate,” Temperance said.
Silence winced. “I’m sorry.”
“We spent hours searching for you and Mary Darling,” Temperance said in a much too calm voice as she poured the tea. “It wasn’t until one of the maids confessed that she’d glanced out a window and saw you walking away with a ‘tall, handsome as sin man,’ that we realized what had happened. I was all for traveling at once to London, but Caire persuaded me to wait a bit.” Temperance gave her a jaundiced look. “I think he rather feared what I might do to you.”
“I never meant to make you worry so,” Silence said in a rush. “I did leave you a note.”
“Not a very helpful one,” Temperance said darkly.
“It’s just that he asked me to come with him—”
“And so you did.” Temperance sighed and sat back with her dish of tea. “Without a thought for us.”
“I’m afraid so,” Silence said in a small voice.
Temperance took a sip. “He’s bad, you know that, and yet you went off with him without a backward glance.”
Silence took her cup of tea and held it near her face without drinking. She inhaled the fragrant steam. “I’ve left him.”
Temperance set down her cup. “Have you?”
Silence only nodded.
Temperance eyed her. “Well… I suppose that’s good.”
Silence closed her eyes.
“Isn’t it?” Temperance asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you leave him exactly?”
Silence shook her head, staring at her steaming cup of tea, trying to put into words the decision that had seemed so cut and dried a week ago. “He won’t quit his pirating, even though he has enough money, from what I can see, to live happily the rest of his life.”
“You asked him to quit?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Temperance picked up her teacup again, murmuring over its rim, “that by itself would be enough for me to leave him.”
“Would it?” Silence traced the edge of her teacup, considering. “I think it would’ve been enough for me as well—before I went to live with him.”
“But now?”
“Now…” Silence leaned forward, looking at her sister intently, trying to convey what was in her heart. “He’s no longer just a pirate to me. He’s Charming Mickey O’Connor, notorious river pirate, but he’s also Michael, a man who loves butterflies. Who told me about the worst parts of his childhood. Who took me to the opera and sat as if entranced by the music. Who sings to his daughter. Don’t you see? I might be fascinated by Charming Mickey, but I could never love him. Michael I can—I do—love.”
Temperance gave her a level look. “Even though he’s a pirate?”
Silence met her gaze, lifting her chin. “Yes. I hate how he makes his money, but I love Michael.”
Temperance sighed. “Then why did you leave him?”
“Because I don’t think he’ll ever truly see me as an equal, a partner, someone to trust and love for all time. Someone who is a person in her own right. Someone worthy of making a commitment—changing—for.” Silence’s lips trembled. “I wanted him to choose a life with me instead of a life of pirating—and he couldn’t.”
“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.