"Let me get this straight," Eve managed to mutter through clenched teeth. She had gone beyond vexation into pure rage. "You've made me accept an impostor as a spouse so that you can pretend to kill him off so I can be a fraudulent widow?"
"You'll be a widow for only a short time, lass. Then I'll see ye married good and proper."
"I see," Eve said in stunned disbelief. Her deceitful da was even more devious than she had previously thought.
Plopping back down in her chair, Eve slowly shook her head. "We have a room in the Towers if you're interested, because you've gone barmy, I declare! Madder than any patient of mine," she growled, her eyes shooting sparks. "How could you?"
"Not mad, just crazy like a fox—even though me bloodline's pure werewolf. Still, I'm canny as a wolf, and you should be overjoyed. Since Adam isn't as fine or as handsome as ye like, ye can marry me boon companion," the old salt suggested, waiting to see if Eve would take Hook, line, and sinker. He knew he had to continue to advance while her guard was down.
Eve just blinked. Her father intended her to marry the nefarious Captain Hook? "I think I'll keep Adam," she replied sarcastically.
Bluebeard shook his head. "No, lass. Adam is a fine fellow for an impoverished impersonator, but I want a real pirate for a son-in-law. See, it's just like I always told you, lassie: every cloud has a silver lining—and if one doesn't, you just steal it."
"Never. I'll never, ever marry Captain Hook!" Giving her father one last baleful look, she turned sharply on her heel, shoved her way through a dirty dozen or two, and stalked back to where Teeter had just ordered his third ale.
Grabbing the mug from him, she downed the strong brew in less than a minute, without choking once—an advantage of having lived on a pirate ship.
So, her father wanted her married to Hook, and by crook. But she wouldn't marry the heinous Hook, and she wouldn't sleep with Adam. She would be captain of her own destiny. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but soon. "Well, as soon as I can come up with a plan to upset the old pirate cart," she muttered to herself.
Teeter started to argue as his mistress drank the last few drops of his ale, but seeing her harried expression, he decided that his two previous mugs were quite enough for the time being. He would raid the wine cellar later—perhaps with Mrs. Fawlty, if she were in the mood for high romance.
Eve cursed and set down the mug. Her father had just trimmed her sails without a shot being fired. "Blast him and all men to smithereens!" she growled, shoving Teeter out of the tavern and into the darkness of coming night. "Where's our bloody carriage?" she asked sourly. Twisting the pearls around her throat, she realized that in her anger she had forgotten her father's cardinal rule: "Early to rise and early to strike makes a pirate healthy, wealthy and wise," she repeated. Well, it didn't rhyme but it was true. Her father had struck swift and early, his aim deadly accurate, and now she was trapped in a pretend marriage.
Chapter Fourteen
The Good, the Bad, and the Truly Mad
The horse-drawn carriage took both Eve and Teeter back to the Towers after her unpleasant visit with her father. Any other night Eve might have taken a moment to appreciate the spaciously noble building and its lush location. As an inheritance, it was grand. The house had been set upon a slight hill, and had a fine view of a meadow and woodlands. Its lofty walls and soaring spires had been raised when Elizabeth I was queen. Now the walls were dark gray with age and mellowed by centuries of weather, and covered in a variety of deep green ivy and flowering plants.
Walking inside the asylum, Eve found it more than odd that the place appeared deserted. Before she could become thoroughly worried, however, a loud disturbance outside caught her attention. Eve discovered as she opened the balcony doors that sounds of merriment grew louder. Perplexed, she stepped down the terraced steps to find a fairyland. Under the soft golden glow of the moon, and hundreds of colored Japanese lanterns, Eve watched her patients and servants mill about the yard with plates of food in their hands, or tap their feet to an orchestra.
"Why is there an orchestra here?" she asked. It was true that music soothed the savage beast, but it wasn't even a full moon yet.
Eve narrowed her eyes in disbelief as she took in the scene before her. Between tall Greek pillars crowned by heraldic beasts or Nosferatu or wereanimals, she spied curious faces laughing and frolicking. Everyone appeared in a rather boisterous and rowdy mood. It was a little after nine at night, and it seemed the madhouse had moved into Eve's garden. She didn't know whether to frown or smile. So often the insane were trapped in silent, ugly worlds, but tonight was certainly different—as evidenced by the chaotic sounds of laughter and mayhem.
"What on earth is going on?" she asked as Teeter came to stand beside her. Glancing up at his homely face, she could tell from his expression that he was as clueless as she. "Who ever heard of a nighttime picnic for the insane? Who ever heard of any picnic for the insane? Who ever thought up this particular folly should have their head examined!" She hoped her paranormal patients didn't decide to eat the servants.
Teeter volunteered a comment nervously. "Madam, the lunatics might escape into the night. If they do, they'll turn London upside down with their strange behavior. What will we do?"
Eve's face clouded as she assessed the situation. So far, everyone appeared to be in fine form, behaving themselves. Did she dare break it up and become the bad guy? No. "I guess we wait and see. And, speaking of duties, I see Hugo." She pointed to the bellicose bell-ringing dwarf. His face was cast mainly in shadow, but she could see his weak chin and the slash of his mouth.
"But we weren't speaking of duties," Teeter complained.
Eve almost smiled and let him off, but a punishment was a punishment, else a ship would go to rack and ruin and a madhouse would be run by its inmates. "Come now, Teeter, it's not so bad. Hugo is playing quietly with his marbles. And see? Sir Loring is watching as well," Eve cajoled. "With avid interest," she added. Upon closer inspection, she had noted that it was not Hugo's marbles that had mesmerized Sir Loring, but rather the dwarf's fat little neck. "Go and tend Hugo now. And see that Sir Loring is fed immediately."
As he left, Eve directed her attention to finding the culprit who had devised this foolishness. To her direct right Mrs. Monkfort was standing on the large marble fountain. Eve assumed that it was so that the widow wouldn't get her feet dirty. Mrs. Monkfort was busy admonishing Mr. Pryce not to land in the potato pie with his grubby little wings. "There's a fly in the ointment, which gives me heart palpitations," she was saying. "Where are my smelling salts?"
Eve raised her eyes to the heavens, hoping heaven would grant her a bit of peace from this day from hell. Her insane patients were having a picnic outside? Yet, to give the devil his due—in this case Adam?—most appeared to be behaving remarkably well. With the exception of Mr. Jack Rippington, who Eve reluctantly noticed, was currently sneaking up on a pair of innocent rosebushes with his pants undone. Fortunately, Pavlov was a mere few feet behind him, evidently having been given Jack the Rip watch.
Sighing in relief, Eve continued her earnest search of the area for the viper in her garden, a particularly tricky little serpent whom she knew was responsible for this nighttime folly. Her enemy was crafty and quite deviously charming, what with his sharp wit and twinkling hazel eyes. And she absolutely would not remember his kiss. He had to go—and the sooner the better. She couldn't have him usurping her authority and ordering picnics with orchestras and champagne without so much as a by-your-leave.
Turning her head to the left, she found him. His powerful build stood out among the members of her staff, and he was jauntily telling some story that had everyone chuckling.