The Pirate's Duty (Regent's Revenge #3)(41)

“Yer belly is never full, O’Malley,” Girard complained.

“’Tis true.” Oriana rolled out a lump of dough and began to knead it. “So will ye be able to handle the tavern while I’m gone?”

“Aye,” they replied in unison.

“Good.” She nodded, trusting Girard and O’Malley could carry on without her. Their assistance allowed her time to visit with the woman who’d taken the place of her mother in so many ways. “After tea, Mrs. Pickering and I will be reading Evelina, a novel of manners.”

“What do ye need that book for?” O’Malley sank into the chair he’d previously occupied. “Ye’re already a lady. Don’t be a goose—never happy unless where ye ain’t.”

Girard grumbled and moved toward the fire to sit on a three-legged chimney stool. “Are ye blind to the poor girl’s plight? She goes to the church because she wants to be a real lady.”

If only it were that easy to be as fine as Lady Chloe.

“Ha!” O’Malley thrust out his finger. “Miss Thorpe could jump on flagstones in a mill filled with miners and still be a real lady.”

Oriana’s heart swelled, and she gloried briefly in the moment as the two men argued, defending her honor. She set the dough aside and sliced several pieces of bacon, the sound of the knife steadily drumming against the hardwood as she worked.

“Are ye daft?” Girard stoked embers on the fire until they glowed red. “I said she wants to better ’erself, ye ken?”

O’Malley leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “And I said, she doesn’t need to, ye ken?”

“If ye plan on fightin’, join the pigs outside,” she said, adding the bacon, mashed potatoes, and eggs to a baking iron before covering the food with a heavy frying pan. “We cannot read scandalous books like The Monk in the parsonage, and ye know it.” She walked over to Girard and handed him the cumbersome bakeware. “That’s not the sort of book a vicar’s wife reads.”

“Saintly woman, she is.” Girard set the covered meal on the fire. “No different from our Lady Chloe the moment we found ’er aboard the Mohegan. I’ve never seen a woman more inclined to save a book. Ye should ’ave seen ’er, soaked to ’er skin, clutching a copy of The Castle of Otranto to ’er chest.” Hot embers blazed in the furze and turf as he mounded the pile around the cookware to ensure an even temperature within. “’Eard she ’as a grand room of books to read now.”

Oriana collected the serviceware needed for the meal. “Whatever happened between Lady Chloe and the Regent?” she asked, finally voicing the question she’d been wondering ever since she’d received word of Lady Chloe’s marriage.

O’Malley spit out his ale. “Happened?”

What was wrong with the man? She glanced up from her duties. “Don’t be tellin’ me the ale’s gone bad.”

“No. No,” he supplied, easing her mind. “It caught in me windpipe, is all.”

“Take your time. No need to drown yourself.” She glanced at Girard, who had gone quiet. “Perhaps ye can shed light on Lady Chloe’s marriage.”

“What about it?” Girard frowned the way he did whenever she told him he couldn’t have any more ale. “We’ve been at the Roost. ’Ow would we know?”

“Have ye not heard from the Regent?”

Deftly caught, he narrowed his eyes. “Aye.”

“Well, why didn’t the lady marry him?” she asked. Lady Chloe had been willing to die rather than allow Charles to use her to trap the Regent. “It was clear to me that the two were enthralled with each other when they were in my tavern.”

The two men exchanged glances, but neither said a word.

“I see.” But she didn’t. How could she? Nothing made sense right then. She thought of John and wondered how she would feel if Charles used him against her, which would likely be the case if Charles returned and discovered she had any feelings for the fisherman.

“What of ’er letters, Miss?” Girard broke his silence as he rose to grab a broom and began sweeping stray embers back into the hearth. “’Asn’t she mentioned ’er ’appiness?”

“Pay attention to what ye’re doin’!” O’Malley shouted, jumping to his feet when several hot cinders landed on the toe of his boot, singeing the leather. He kicked and stomped his foot before addressing Oriana. “Ye can be sure that woman is madly in love with her husband, Miss. Hasn’t he allowed her to fill their home with orphans? Only a man in love would allow such home-wrecking.”

“Aye.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “That does quiet my concerns somewhat. I know from experience that it’s incredibly hard to want what ye cannot have.”

O’Malley smacked ash from his trousers. “Ye’re more pirate than ye know.”

Girard smirked. “She’s a lady, not a pirate.” He looked over his shoulder at her and flashed a mischievous grin. “What do ye want that ye cannot ’ave, Miss?”

She placed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Tellin’ ye will only spell misfortune for me.”

That earned stares from both men.

Girard spoke first. “Don’t yer people say, to see a black ship is bad luck but to sail with it is to share its fate?”