Page 13 of A Lord in Want of a Wife (Daring Debutantes #2)

L ucy was a girl who hid. The only time she’d ever been bold was when she was pretending to be a boy. But there was no pretense here and little room to negotiate. Her life was completely under her adoptive father’s control. If he refused to give her a dowry, what could she do?

Exactly what she did when she negotiated. She began with flattery and servitude. That usually worked.

She brought him tea the next day as the ship was preparing to leave port. Everyone was busy, including her sister. Her father stood on deck in a tiny, quiet corner and watched. Lucy offered him the drink.

‘I made it very hot,’ she said as she offered him the drink. ‘Do not let it burn you.’

‘Thank you, Lucy. You are looking very lovely this morning.’

She had dressed with care. She knew he appreciated it when she looked as English as possible.

‘I am constantly impressed with Captain Banakos,’ he said as he watched the organised chaos around them.

‘His bookkeeping is not so good.’ She said it under her breath, but not so quiet that he couldn’t hear. And at his arch look, she shrugged. ‘It is not so bad either.’

‘But you found errors.’

She nodded. ‘I can always find errors because everyone makes mistakes.’ She cast him a coy look. ‘Every man makes mistakes because no man is perfect. It is therefore honourable, at times, to change your mind.’

‘To correct an error?’

‘Yes.’

‘Like refusing to dower you?’

She lowered her eyes and kept her body position contrite. ‘You are a wise and kind father. I would not question your decisions.’

‘Then you are not a wise daughter.’

Her gaze jumped up to his face. He was watching her closely, but his expression remained unreadable. ‘I do not understand.’

‘It is a good thing for people to ask questions, especially when they listen to the answers. Men as well as women.’ He leaned back against the railing as he sipped his tea. ‘What do you want to ask me?’

Many questions pushed forwards, none of them strategic in getting what she wanted. So it was a shock when the most important one slipped from her lips.

‘What do you want with me?’

His brows lifted. ‘You are my daughter. I want you to be happy—’

‘I am not your daughter. I came with Grace when the monks presented her to you. She is your daughter.’

He nodded. ‘But you are her sister, yes? I don’t mean by blood. She refused to leave China without you. And you her.’

‘We were two girl half children in the temple.’ Even among orphans, the boys were more valued. ‘From my earliest memory, we held on to each other.’ Grace had been older, so she was the one who first comforted Lucy. But as they grew, they loved one another.

But that didn’t explain why Lord Wenshire had taken two girls, not one. Was she nothing to him? Just an extra piece of Grace’s baggage, like an extra pair of shoes or a hat?

‘I can be valuable to you. I can earn money.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I found errors in the account books. You have other ships. I can look at all those account books. And I am very honest.’

He smiled at her. ‘If that would give you pleasure, I would be happy to let you check all the account books for all my ships.’

‘It is not pleasure,’ she returned. ‘It is for money. So that your accounts are correct.’

He nodded. ‘But I can hire other people to check the accounts. I don’t need you to do it. But if that would give you pleasure—’

‘It is not pleasure!’ she repeated. ‘It is work. Good work. Done to please you.’

‘But I don’t need you to work for me.’

Damn it. She had meant to exchange her work for his boat, the dowry that Lord Domac wanted.

She squared her shoulders. ‘I can do many things. I am a good learner. What other work do you need someone to do?’

‘I don’t need a worker.’ He glanced up as the sails were unfurled. ‘I have plenty of those. What I need,’ he said as he looked back to her, ‘is a daughter.’

‘And what does a daughter do?’

‘She lives a good life and shares it with me.’

Ah. He wanted a maid and companion in his old age. ‘Perhaps you want a wife. I could help you find one. Someone who will make you happy. Who will grace your bed and—’

He chuckled. ‘I have no need for a wife. The woman I loved is gone.’

‘But I could find you another one. Many women want someone to care for. It need not be me. I am no good at cleaning and serving. Not like men want.’ She sighed. ‘I can make hot tea. I cannot ease your old age.’

Her belly trembled as she spoke these words.

This was a risky gambit. If she wasn’t what he needed, would he leave her behind in a foreign country?

What would she do then? But she didn’t want to spend the rest of her days playing nursemaid to this man.

Not when Lord Domac wanted her, and she wanted him.

‘I will find you a good wife,’ she pressed.

‘I don’t want a wife,’ he repeated.

‘But you want me. Why?’

He sighed as he looked out at the ocean. ‘When I was young, I met a woman with a terrible life. We found happiness together despite that. At least for a time.’

‘Grace’s mother.’

He nodded, though his gaze was abstract.

‘I could not save her. I tried, but…’ He lifted up his cup and tipped it over.

Two drops of tea splatted on the deck. ‘I did not have enough money to save her.’ He looked at her.

‘I have enough money now. So I went back to China. I paid the monks silver. Lots and lots of silver.’ He leaned forwards. ‘And so I saved you and Grace.’

‘But why? We are not her.’

He smiled. ‘Why? Because you came. Because I could. Why did the monks take care of you as a baby?’

‘So we would grow up to serve the temple.’ And they had. She’d even seen the silver that Lord Wenshire had given the monks. Thanks, he’d said, for bringing him his daughter.

‘And now you wonder what you owe me.’ He tilted his head. ‘Why has it taken you so long to ask me these questions?’

Because her command of English was not as good back then.

And because she was afraid of being left behind.

She was afraid of what he truly wanted, and she’d had no real desire of her own except to stay with Grace.

But now she wanted Lord Domac. And to bargain for him required her to know what Lord Wenshire wanted so she could provide it. That’s how transactions were done.

‘Lucy, I could not save the woman I loved, but I could save you and Grace.’

‘To what end?’

He stroked his knuckles along her jaw. She allowed it because there was no lust in his eyes when he did it. It was a simple gesture of tenderness.

‘So that when I die and go to meet my maker, I can point to something good that I have done with my life. I can look at you and at Grace and know that I made a difference in your lives.’

As if to emphasise the point, the cough that often plagued him came back.

It was a dry rattle, barely heard above the surrounding noise.

He needed more tea. Something with healing leaves, but she did not have medical knowledge.

That had been someone else at the temple.

The most she had done was get him the right ingredients.

‘You have helped me,’ she said, her words earnest. ‘I shall always love you,’ she said, wondering if she lied. ‘But if I am to be a good daughter to you, then I should marry and give you grandchildren. Boys to play at your feet and girls to make you smile and bring you—’

‘Tea?’ he rasped.

She wasn’t sure if he was finishing her sentence or asking for her to fetch him more. ‘Would you like another drink?’ she asked.

‘Let’s go down below and make it together,’ he answered. ‘And get out of this beastly sun.’

She readily agreed. It seemed as if he were softening, pleased with her affection.

With a little more daughterly attention, he might agree to give her what she wanted.

So they went together to the galley. She helped him sit when another coughing fit gripped him.

And she heated more water for tea. The tea leaves weren’t even as good as what was served at the temple, but it was all she found.

And she served it to him as if he were the emperor himself.

He patted her hand and drank, his fit easing the longer she sat with him. But eventually she grew impatient.

‘I want to honour you,’ she said, ‘for the kindness you have shown me. What do you need from me—’

‘Nothing, Lucy. You don’t have to serve me or pay me anything. That is not why I brought you out of China.’

‘But you want me to be happy, yes? And you want to be remembered and honoured. Grandchildren will do that for you. They are the greatest legacy of all.’ She took his hand and squeezed it. ‘That is what you want, isn’t it? A good legacy?’

He nodded slowly, his expression wary. ‘It is,’ he slowly acknowledged. ‘But I do not think you understand what that means.’

Maybe not, but she had a good guess. ‘I will give you grandchildren,’ she vowed. ‘Little boys who praise your name. Girls who will bring you honour. I can give you what you want—’

‘But only if I let you marry Lord Domac?’

She smiled. ‘He is who I want.’

‘And you mean to bargain with me for him. Give you the dowry he wants, and you shall marry him and live happily ever after. Yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

The finality of the word hit her heart. There was such firmness in it that she knew he hadn’t softened at all. Had she pushed too hard? Did he need something else?

‘Lucy, you think that you need a dowry to be valuable. You are enough of a treasure.’

‘But he needs the boat! He will not marry me without it.’ That much she’d already understood. He was a fortune-hunter, and so she needed a fortune.

‘Then he does not see that you are the treasure.’ Her father sighed. ‘And neither do you, apparently. Don’t you want to be loved?’

Fancy words, idealistic words. Words that she thought only children believed. And yet here was this aging Englishman who adopted foreign girls and spoke in such ignorance of the world.

‘I want a man who will not beat me. I want a man who lets me help him earn coin. And I want his children to love. Lord Domac will do that.’

‘Or any of a hundred others. Wait until you are in London. You will meet other good men there.’

‘Let Grace meet all the other men. Give me her dowry so I may have the man I choose.’

He shook his head. ‘Even his own family calls him inconsistent. He may truly love you now, but it will not last. I will not make it easy for him to marry either of you.’

‘But you have given Grace the dowry he wants.’

‘She knows her worth. If he earns her respect, then perhaps I will allow the marriage. But you still think you have to buy your future from everyone else.’

‘But he doesn’t want her! He wants me.’

‘I’m sorry, Lucy. You don’t know your own value yet, and until you do, no husband will make you happy.’

She rocked back on her heels, angry and frustrated to the point of clenching her hands into fists. She would not hit him. That would risk everything she had to no point. But she was angry and had no way to express it.

‘You don’t understand!’ she cried. ‘How can I find value when you give me nothing!’ It was a ridiculous statement.

He had given her a way out of a country that reviled her.

He had given her food and clothing. Even now he promised to care for her in his home country.

That was a safe life. It was a good life.

But it was not a life with Lord Domac. And that was what she wanted.

‘Grace does not want him!’ she cried.

‘Then maybe he will wait for you.’

Maybe. But she did not trust in maybes. And she knew that men had short attention spans.

‘How long?’ she finally rasped. ‘How long must I wait? How long before you dower me?’ Assuming he dowered her at all.

Her father sighed and looked away from her. She recognised the look. He was calculating things in his head, and she had to wait while he weighed her worth like pebbles on a scale. In that moment, she hated him for doing this to her. But she had no other option.

Finally, he decided. ‘One year,’ he said. ‘We will arrive in London in time for a Season. Grace will come out first, of course. That will be her time. Yours will be the next year. That is the way things are done in England. The eldest goes first.’

It was the same in China, but it didn’t make sense. ‘Grace does not want a husband. I do.’

‘Grace may change her mind. She cannot run the riggings forever. She must grow up, as well.’

‘But she doesn’t want—’

‘One year, Lucy. If he loves you, he will wait.’